


Heroes and Villains

by DreamSmithAJK



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Buffy is a Bitch, F/F, Femslash, Mutant Powers, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1390681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamSmithAJK/pseuds/DreamSmithAJK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PAIRING: Buffy/Faith<br/>CONTENT:  A Buffy alternate universe, done X-men style.<br/>SUMMARY:  It's Buffy's first week in Sunnydale, and EVERYONE at her new school is a Mutant. Also, Buffy's pre-Slayer personality is intact, which means she's gloriously and unrepentantly bitchy, vain and self-obsessed, Faith is tough, violent, and utterly smitten, and the student body needs to give up already and start with the grovelling.<br/>SPOILERS:  Starting at the very beginning of the Buffy series, and instantly diverging from there. </p><p>Special Thanks to my Patrons for their support and encouragement:<br/>Charles Jackson, David Helmink, Jeffrey Clemons, Dale, Ethan Barton, Brandon Young, Andy Rowell, Marcel, Michael Cronin, Jessamyn Howe</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"--Anyway, I need you to really try and make this work." Joyce glanced over for a moment, her expression equal parts stern and pleading, before returning her attention to her driving. "Finding a school that would take you after... well, after everything that happened... it wasn't easy."  
  
Buffy sighed quietly, and turned her head to look out at the scenery passing by.  
  
"I know, mom, I  _know_. I promise, I'll try to get along with people better, here. You just have no idea...."   
  
Her mother had no idea what it was like; what Buffy's life was like. To be sixteen, and to have to deal with all of the extra craziness of her world on top of the already impossible stress of being a teenager.... No, the older woman had no idea.  
  
Her mother's own sigh was louder, and more exasperated.  
  
"Honey, I'm doing the best I can with this. I'm working hard to be 'open-minded mom', aren't I?" Buffy shrugged her shoulders and said nothing, still gazing at the small, sun-drenched town they now called home. Joyce was silent too, for a long minute, until they stopped at a traffic light. Then the girl felt a touch on her shoulder. "Buffy, I don't hate you. I'm not afraid of you, and I'm not abandoning you. I moved us here just so you could go to school with other people who... are in the same situation." There was hurt in her voice. "Doesn't that earn me any consideration at all? Won't you at least look at me?"  
  
Buffy blinked, and thought about it for a moment, and finally turned her head to look at her mother. The woman's face was open, and vulnerable, and the girl fought to get past the knot of guilt, pain, and sullen anger that had been twisting inside her for weeks.  
  
"The word is 'mutant', mom," she said softly, her green eyes quietly accusing. "When you say 'people in the same situation', what you mean is 'mutant'." She turned away again, unable to bear the pain in her mother's eyes. "Maybe I'd believe you were really okay with it, that you still see me the same, if you could actually stand to say the word."  
  
A deafening silence filled the vehicle, and Buffy closed her eyes.  
  
 _My god, I am being such a bitch to her,_  she thought.  _I know she's trying, I really do. It's just...._  She shook her head, folding her arms tightly across her stomach as she hunched down in her seat.  _It's just that none of it is my_  fault!  _I didn't ask for any of this. I never wanted to be different, or to have powers. And I sure never wanted any of what happened back at my old school to happen, either!_  
  
Vision of fire and destruction passed behind her closed eyelids, along with visions of the ones she'd been fighting, that fateful night. Vicious, distorted faces, yellow eyes, gleaming fangs....  
  
She opened her eyes and sat upright, unwilling to relive those memories yet again. It had been a near thing, with the police in Los Angeles. The arson investigator, in particular, had been more than half-convinced that Buffy was behind the destruction. She'd played the cuteness card for all it was worth, of course, and it helped that she was tiny, and blonde, and extremely pretty. Still, one court-ordered DNA test would give lie to any pretense of helplessness, so it had been a tense two weeks. When the investigation had finally ended, and the police had declined to actually arrest her, she'd thought the worst was over.  
  
And then Joyce had dropped the bombshell. Moving to another town, away from her friends, and her father, and everything she knew. A new school. A  _special_  school. Ever since, she'd been in full-on sulky/angry/hateful teen mode. She knew it, and knew that her mother didn't deserve it... and she still couldn't help herself.  
  
Glancing out the passenger-side window, Buffy saw that they'd already left the tiny urban center of Sunnydale behind, and were now in the greener, semi-wooded area north of town.  
  
Buffy's mom nearly missed the turnoff; the entrance to the school was marked only by a small, discreet sign. "The Sunnydale Academy for the Gifted". The private drive passed through a dense belt of trees which completely hid the school grounds from the road. On the other side they encountered what was obviously a newly-constructed wall of stone blocks; ten feet high at least, with mounds of raw earth and a few leftover blocks piled untidily here and there. The gate before them was ornate, beautifully-made... and very solid looking.  
  
"Welcome to the Sunnydale freak prison," Buffy muttered sullenly, drawing a reproving look from her mother.  
  
"You know very well that it's no such thing," the woman told her, her voice heavy with determined patience. "You can come and stay with me every weekend, and for the winter and summer breaks, too." She pulled up to where a security guard was stationed in a little cubicle thingy, and rolled down her window. Since she was busy showing the man the admission paperwork, she missed Buffy's soft reply.  
  
"I'd rather be home  _every_  night, mom. In my own room, in my own bed." She scrunched down in her seat again. "Forcing me to be around other freaks isn't going to make me less of one, you know."  
  
The guard, apparently satisfied that everything was in order, did something that caused the gate to slide open. Joyce drove the car through, and Buffy entered her new world.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The 'school' looked more like a very large mansion to Buffy, though there were several other buildings scattered around that might hold the actual classrooms. Those structures, unlike the ivy-covered main building, looked to be very recent additions to the grounds, with a team of landscapers even now working to mend the scars left by construction equipment. Joyce pulled the SUV up to what seemed to be the designated drop-off point, and they both stepped out into the brilliant afternoon sun. There were other young people around, either standing and talking with each other or piling out of their own parentmobiles. The 'crowd' was definitely anything but, however, which matched what the brochure had said. The whole student body here was only a fraction of what the sophomore class at her old school had been. As her mother spoke to a dark-suited woman with a clipboard, Buffy went to the back of the vehicle and unloaded her belongings. All told there were three large suitcases and a huge duffel, and at first she found herself following deeply ingrained habit. Pulling them out one at a time, she pretended to struggle with the weight, just like any other normal girl her size would have done. Then she stopped, and thought about what she was doing, and gave a shrug instead.  
  
 _I guess if I'm in freaksville anyway, I might as well act the part._  
  
Gripping two of the suitcase handles in one tiny hand, she lifted them effortlessly. The strap for the duffel went over her head, so that the huge, heavy mass rested on her back. The last suitcase, the largest and heaviest, was no problem for her free hand. Moving carefully so as not to lose her balance while carrying three times her own negligible weight, she turned, saw the startled stare her mother was giving her, and smiled.  
  
"All set, here. Which way to the dorms?"  
  
Whatever Joyce would have said was lost in the sudden crash of something slamming into her from behind, and the girl was sent sprawling. Her lightning-quick reflexes would have easily put her feet back under her before she hit the ground, if not for the weight of the duffel on her back interfering with her balance. As it was, her arms flew wide, and she ended up flinging suitcases in three directions, and slamming painfully into the ground. The hard concrete sidewalk wasn't kind to either her elbow or her knee, and she gritted her teeth against the sudden pain.  
  
"Xander! Are you alright?"  
  
Buffy opened her eyes, and registered several things at once. Firstly, one of her suitcases, which had went flying as she threw out her hands to try and catch herself, had, in fact, gone right through the passenger-side window of her mother's car. Shattered safety glass was still crackling and tinkling as it fell to the ground, and she gave a resigned sigh. Secondly, her mother was staring at her in dismay, but was making no immediate effort to approach. Apparently the sudden display of violence, unintentional as it was, had brought home once again the strangeness of her only child. And, thirdly, the object which had slammed into her without warning was a dorky-looking guy who was sprawled just a few feet away, staring at her with an expression of awe. The blood streaming down into one eye from a cut on his forehead didn't seem to bother him in the slightest, and he sat up, then started crawling towards her, all without ever looking away.  
  
"Can I have you?" He asked, reaching out with one hand. Buffy flinched back, ignoring her own bloody scrapes, and he pulled back a bit. "I mean, 'can I  _help_  you,'" he said, ducking his head in embarrassment. "Obviously, helping you is what I said. Or what I meant. What I meant to said--ah, meant to  _say_. Um, obviously." His meandering words finally slowed, then stopped, and he looked at her expectantly. Buffy stared at him, then sat up.  
  
"I'm fine," she snapped, a lie if ever there was one. Here she was, showing up at a new school, a new  _high school_ , where image was as vital as oxygen, and the first glimpse her classmates had of her was when this moron decked her and sent her sprawling.   
  
 _This is just peachy_ , she grumbled to herself.  _Not that I really_ needed  _any friends here or anything, though it would have been nice to have had the option...._  
  
"Xander, I asked if you were alright!"   
  
Somehow Buffy had missed the red-haired girl running towards them, even after she'd shouted a few moments ago, right after the collision. Now she hurried to the fallen boy, and knelt down beside him. He tried to push her away, ineffectually, and the girl pressed one narrow hand against the gash on his forehead.   
  
"Mighty Hecate, hear my prayer," the girl murmured, eyes closing. Buffy raised one eyebrow, glanced over at where her mother was staring at damage the luggage-shaped missile had inflicted upon her car, and started to drag herself to her feet. It was awkward, given the sharp nuggets of glass scattered over the sidewalk, and the weight dragging at her back. Before she'd gotten very far someone stepped up beside her, reached down to take her by both her hand and her undamaged elbow, and helped her to her feet. She got herself upright, the automatic words of thanks rising to her lips... and then stopped, and stared instead.  
  
The girl was tall--or at least, taller than Buffy herself, though that was no great trick. Dark eyes, pale skin, full, ruby-red lips, and... purple hair? She blinked, took a second look, and yes, it was still there, all sleek, and waist-length, and very definitely a dark shade of purple. That color was repeated in the skimpy silk halter top she wore, which showed off a trim midriff, nice shoulders, and some envy-inducing cleavage. The leather pants were black, and so tight that there couldn't have been room for a credit card in the back pockets. Buffy also noted, belatedly, that the girl hadn't yet let go of her hand and arm, even though Buffy was obviously well able to stand on her own. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she moved a pace backwards. The girl released her without comment.  
  
"Thanks," Buffy managed, slipping the duffel off her back.   
  
"Not a problem, babe," the stranger murmured, so softly that it almost got past the smaller girl's more-than-human hearing. It didn't, though, and she would have given purple-girl an indignant look, if something else hadn't interrupted.  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry," the boy who'd hit her said, rising to his feet. "I wasn't trying to plow into you or anything, I swear." He gave her a grin that was obviously meant to be charming in some geeky, goofy way, but Buffy was not amused.  
  
"How about you try and be more careful?" she said, not  _quite_  snarling the words. She was acutely aware of how disheveled she looked now; her nice white blouse torn and stained with blood, and her knee scraped raw. She'd worn the short, dark skirt specifically to show off her nicely-formed legs, and now, well, the view wasn't quite what she'd intended. And all of that didn't even take into account how intimidated she felt by the tall girl with the purple hair. The girl who was not only un _believably_  sexy, but who also couldn't seem to take her eyes off of Buffy herself.   
  
The third girl present, the skinny one with the red hair, finally stopped her quiet praying, or chanting, or whatever the heck she'd been doing all this time, and took her hand away from the boy's head.  
  
"There you go, Xander," she chirped brightly. "Good as new!"   
  
Buffy looked, startled, and sure enough the skin underneath the smears of blood looked to be perfectly whole again.  
  
 _This really_  is  _freaksville. Better get used to it._  
  
The girl then turned to Buffy, gave an exclamation, and started forward.  
  
"Oh! Here, I can do you, too." It might have been an honest offer, certainly the girl looked harmless enough... but appearances could be deceiving. So far, the only other people she'd met who were... different... hadn't exactly been friendly. In fact, they'd been downright murderous, and she'd barely come away with her skin intact. Given that history, it would probably be awhile before she would be able to let any stranger (especially  _strange_  strangers) that close.  
  
"No!" Buffy said, a little more sharply than she'd intended. The girl stopped short, a hurt look on her face, and then she took a slow step back.  
  
"Okaaaay," she said, then brightened. "Well, I'm Willow, and I guess you already met Xander here." The boy raised one hand, and gave her a little wave.  
  
"Hi."  
  
Willow smiled at him, then at Buffy.  
  
"Xander and I have known each other all our lives. We're actually from here--Sunnydale, I mean. I think we're the only ones. Everyone else is from other parts of the state." She paused, waiting expectantly for a reply. Buffy just looked at her.  
  
Purple-haired girl just looked at Buffy (which was disconcerting in the  _oddest_  way, though she refused to show it, or even acknowledge the stare).  
  
The sound of a throat clearing broke the tense silence, and Buffy looked over to see her mother had finally gotten up the courage to approach her again.   
  
"Here you go, honey," she said, setting the suitcase down. It looked a little worse for wear now, with scratches and tiny bits of glass decorating it. Looking around at the four young people, Joyce gave a forced smile. "And see? You're already making friends." Buffy gave the woman the same sullen, unfriendly stare she'd been giving Willow a moment earlier, and her mother cleared her throat again. "Well, I'll leave you to get settled in." He leaned forward and hugged the girl, awkwardly, but with genuine affection. "Call me tonight, and let me know how things are going," she said, and Buffy nodded.  
  
"I will," she promised. It still wasn't her mother's fault, any of this. It still wasn't fair, either.   
  
Joyce got in the car, tried to pretend she didn't notice the broken window, failed, then waved a final time. As she drove away, Buffy turned back to the others. Fair or not, she was going to be spending a lot of time with these people, so it was probably a good idea to at least  _try_  and be civil with them.  
  
"I'm Buffy," she said, and if her tone wasn't cheerful at least it wasn't blatantly hostile, either. "I, um... I guess I'm new to all of this." A gesture indicated the scattering of other students, and the school itself. Across the lawn, a girl with long blonde hair was glowing as golden as the sunlit afternoon itself, and slowly rose high into the air. Her laughter carried to where Buffy stood, and she shook her head in disbelief. "I'm  _very_  new to this, actually."  
  
Willow smiled, looking relieved that the smaller girl was willing to speak after all.  
  
"Oh, we all are, I think. New, I mean. And most mutant powers don't show up until you're fourteen or so anyway, so nobody's going to have had  _that_  much practice yet." She nodded across to the main building. "The school's new too, you know. This is going to be the first semester."  
  
"Oh." Buffy hadn't known that, though the barely-finished look of the place should have provided ample clueage, had she, you know, actually cared or anything.   
  
"Well," she said, picking up her suitcase and shouldering her duffel. "I guess I'd better go find where to put this stuff." Willow nodded excitedly, and hurried over to where a pair of small suitcases waited by the curb.  
  
"Wait, and we'll go with you!"  
  
Buffy shrugged, and plodded towards where her other two pieces of luggage had landed, twenty or thirty feet out in the lawn. The tall, quiet girl, with only a worn-looking backpack over one shoulder, trailed along after her.  
  
"You got a pretty good throwing arm for a lil' bitty thing, don't you?" The voice was low, and somehow managed to be scratchy and velvety all at the same time. Buffy glanced back, saw Xander and Willow coming up behind the other girl, and smiled slightly.  
  
"A regular mighty mouse, that's me." She picked up the rest of her stuff, distributed it around her person once more, and then headed for the front entrance of the mansion. For some reason, though, and in direct opposition to her usual policy, she found herself going on. "So anyway, I'm strong, and I'm pretty fast; reflexes and running both. I fight really well, too. Somebody told me once that I've got some sort of speed-learning when it comes to picking up martial arts or new weapons." She gave the other girl a sidelong look, worried that all this might be coming across as bragging, or as her being conceited. The girl gave no sign of that, though, just nodding and looking both interested and impressed. "And I've got crazy-sharp senses--well, at least the seeing and hearing parts; I can't smell your BO from across the room or anything."  
  
Willow snorted softly at that.  
  
"Hah! You've obviously never been around Xander on a camping trip. This one time, a baby black bear was actually following him around the campsite, because he smelled so much like it's mommy--"  
  
"Hey,  _thankyounowshutup_ , please!" Xander blurted, elbowing his friend sharply, and hard enough to make her grunt and stumble. She rubbed at her side and glared at him, but he ignored her. "Hey, that's a pretty cool list of powers there, Buffy. Kind of makes you sound like a tiny, unstoppable combat machine." He grinned, deepened his voice, and tried an Austrian accent. "She is  _da Buffinator._ She cannot be bargained with, or reasoned with, and she  _Will. Not. Stop. Evar_!" He waited expectantly for her to laugh. She hit him with her best death stare instead, the one that had sent far larger and scarier creatures than he running for their lives. It worked well enough; after a few moments' exposure his cheerfulness visibly faded, and he fell back a step or two as they walked. Still determined to make friends with  _someone_ , Buffy looked back at Willow.  
  
"So hey, what's your specialness? Something to do with healing?" Willow nodded, then ducked her head shyly, looking embarrassed for some reason.  
  
"Well, healing, yeah, plus a few other things." She wouldn't have gone on, but Buffy, curious, gave her a little prod.  
  
"A few other things? Like what?"  
  
Willow shrugged, looked away, glanced back, and finally relented.  
  
"Telekinesis, sorta... though I'm not very good at it yet!" She seemed to think it important that Buffy understood that point, so the blonde girl nodded. "Okay, then. Um, pyrokinesis and cryokinesis--which comes in handy, 'cause if one gets out of control I can use the other one to deal with the mess. Then there's this thing where I can control plants sometimes, bend and magnify light a little, levitate myself, give the weather a nudge if conditions are right...."  
  
Buffy had turned around by this point, and was staring at the girl in disbelief.   
  
"Are you serious? You can really do  _all_  that?"  
  
Actually, she wasn't even sure what half of those things were. Cryokinesis? Was that some deal where you could make people start crying on command? And how did you control a plant? Anything other than 'Stay' seemed like it would be beyond a plant's ability even if it  _was_  trying to do what you told it to do. Even so, that was a lot of nifty things.  
  
"Gee, that makes me feel a little bit like Scrappy Doo." That got her a blank look from Willow, so she explained. "You know, the cartoon dog? The small, pointless, annoying one that nobody liked?"   
  
"Oh!" Willow nodded, then stopped, frowned fiercely, and shook her head. "Oh, no, no way! You're much, much cooler than he was, absolutely!"  
  
Behind her, Xander gave a sudden laugh.  
  
"Hey, you know, if we all hung out together, we could be the Scooby Gang! Wouldn't that be awesome?" Buffy gave him a disgusted glance, caught a glimpse of the mysterious purple-haired girl giving him a truly chilling look, and then went back to ignoring him. At this point they arrived at the front entrance to the mansion, which was a relief... right up until they met yet another person wielding a clipboard.  
  
"New admissions?" the woman asked, peering at them over her fashionable glasses. Buffy wanted to snap at her, asking what else they possibly  _could_  be. Since they were all teenagers carrying suitcases or backpacks they were obviously students, and if this was the grand opening of the school then there wasn't going to be anything  _except_  new ones.   
  
"Yes," she managed, in a semi-normal tone of voice. "New admissions, that's us."  
  
"Well then, you're in the wrong place." The woman pointed perfunctorily with her pen. "Go around to the West entrance, please, and follow the signs. Student housing is on the second and third floors of that wing."  
  
Buffy turned and stalked away, leaving it to Willow to thank the woman. Now that they were on a sidewalk again the going was easier, though it would have taken a lot more weight than this to really make her work at carrying it. Behind her she heard a familiar sound, and after a moment she placed it--she'd heard that sound immediately before being struck by Xander out by the drive. Glancing back, she saw that he was perched atop a skateboard, and was wobbling along with more enthusiasm than skill.  
  
 _No wonder the idiot knocked me down. It looks like he barely knows how to stay on that thing, much less steer. Or stop._  
  
"If you fall off and break your neck, don't expect any sympathy from me," she said aloud. Xander laughed again, and this time it sounded much less forced than usual.  
  
"Already did that," he said. Buffy frowned, considered that, and looked back over her shoulder. That showed her Willow, staring up at the imposing mansion beside them, Xander, awkwardly maneuvering his board while staring at Buffy's ass... and the other girl, also staring at Buffy's ass. She felt her frown intensify, though of course if she hadn't wanted people to look then she probably shouldn't have worn something so short and tight. Still....  
  
"Ah, excuse me?" Both sets of eyes lifted to meet her own, and Xander grinned.  
  
"Two weeks ago. Fell off my board while I was going down this really steep hill by my house. Hit the curb, went flying, slammed right into this tree." He used his hands to mime a stick breaking in half. "Crack! Broke my neck. Had to lie there for quite awhile before I could move again." He puffed out his chest a little and did his best to strike a pose... which nearly sent him flying when he failed to notice that the sidewalk turned right to go around the corner and along the side of the mansion. Recovering (with some difficulty), he got up to speed again and regained his position just behind the others. "That's  _my_  power."  
  
"Super healing?"  
  
Buffy couldn't help but be a little impressed. Xander shook his head.  
  
"Nope. Close though; I do heal really fast." He jerked a thumb at the red-haired girl. "If she hadn't worked her mojo on that cut earlier, I'd still have healed it up in a few minutes." Buffy nodded.  
  
"I heal fast too." She raised her elbow to show how the scrape was already scabbed over and starting to turn pink with new skin at the edges. He waved a hand in dismissal.  
  
"I heal faster, believe me. And more than that." He looked insufferably smug, squared his shoulders, and grinned widely. "I'm immortal."  
  
Willow snorted again, and rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything. The tall, spooky girl gave him a sidelong look, and stayed silent. That sort of left it up to Buffy to speak up.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
He looked a little disappointed, wobbled his board back and forth a little when they encountered a few pieces of loose gravel on the sidewalk, and repeated it.  
  
"Immortal. Can't die. Ever. That's me." He spread his hands, as if to say 'what else can I say?'.  
  
Buffy pondered that for a moment, then turned to face forward again.  
  
 _Yikes. And I thought_ I _was weird?! This place is totally freaking me out, and I haven't even made it inside yet!_  
  
Fortunately for her sanity, they were nearly to what had to be the designated student entrance. A pair of double doors just ahead were flanked by signboards with neatly arranged notices and helpful map diagrams pinned to them. Buffy walked up to the one on the right, dropped her stuff in a pile, and reached out to trace the dotted lines with one finger.  
  
"Okay, it says 'you are here', so we need to go--"  
  
It was pure stupidity on her part; stupidity and carelessness. She didn't react in time when that sound--the sound of a rapidly-approaching skateboard--failed to stop approaching at a reasonable distance. Instead, it came right up behind her, and for the second time in ten minutes she was knocked from her feet. This time she didn't have any encumbering luggage to slow her down... she only had the signboard (which turned out to be quite sturdily-constructed) directly in front of her. And so, before she could do much of anything besides register that she'd been hit, she found herself slamming face-first into the thing, then falling back to land on her butt. Hard.   
  
When she got past the first wash of pain she whipped her head around. Once again, the culprit was Xander, lying sprawled just a few feet away.  
  
"Oops," he said, looking sheepish.  
  
This time, however, things went a bit differently from that other, similar accident. Filled with an incandescent fury, Buffy surged to her feet.  
  
"You stupid, clumsy, idiotic...  _freak!_ " It didn't matter to her that the last bit actually applied equally to both of them, because at this point she was well and truly pissed off. "If you don't know how to ride that ridiculous thing--" she gestured at the skateboard with a hand that was literally trembling with rage. "--Then at least do it where there's no one else around to get hurt!"  
  
Xander stared up at her, then climbed slowly to his feet.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry." He didn't seem especially sorry to her, though, especially when he had the gall to grin at her. "And besides, you said you heal up fast, right? So what's the big deal?" The grin widened as something occurred to him, and he picked up the board from where it lay at his feet. "In fact, you and me, since we share the whole 'invincible' thing, maybe we should think about teaming up. We could both ride skateboards, and wear matching uniforms, and have codenames that fit together, like 'Unhurtable Kid and Unstoppable Lass', what do you think?"  
  
Buffy stared for a few seconds, realized he was actually serious, and then reached out. Taking the skateboard from him, she tried to put some fraction of her anger into her glare.  
  
"What do I  _think_? How about this?" Breaking the tough composite material of the skateboard across her knee was easy, especially when she was so furious she could barely see straight. Xander made a sort of gasping, squalling sound, reaching for the pieces of his baby, but she wasn't finished yet. "And also...  _this_!" Stepping to one side gave her a clear line of fire, and she wound up and threw, as hard as she could. First one piece, and then the other, flew in a high, long arc, taking several seconds to pass from view behind the roofline of what was probably the school's gymnasium. It looked to be an empty, wooded area back there, so she doubted that anyone would be brained by the flying debris. From behind her she heard a quiet murmur.  
  
"Wow, fucking Mighty Mouse is  _right_."  
  
Willow was staring with wide eyes, looking like a frightened rabbit who didn't know which way to jump. Xander, however, was red-faced, and nearly spitting with fury as he stepped up to loom over the tiny girl.  
  
"Okay, what the  _hell_  was that?! I  _said_  I was sorry! I didn't mean to run into you!" Both fists clenched, he was shouting as directly into her face as the height difference allowed. "You  _don't_  mess with somebody's stuff!  _Ever_! And I don't care if you're a girl or not, so help me I'm gonna--!"  
  
Buffy was staring up at him, matching his glare with her own, desperately hoping that he  _would_  be stupid enough to take a swing at her. Her hands clenched into fists that were much smaller mirrors of his own, she waited... then blinked in confusion as he suddenly stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet. It almost looked like some strange optical illusion, because the physics of it were wrong. He  _couldn't_  have moved his body like that, so abruptly and so fast, not the way he'd been standing, flat-footed, right in front of her. A moment later he regained his balance, and stared at her... and then past her, as someone stepped into view.   
  
The tall girl, the quiet, spooky one with the purple hair. She stepped forward, then eased to the side, placing herself protectively in front of Buffy.  
  
"Back off, pencil dick," the odd girl said, her voice strangely relaxed given the tense situation. Buffy, who had absolutely no need of anyone to save her, nevertheless found herself standing there and watching it happen. It was such a novel situation, having someone protect  _her_ , someone willing to fight for  _her_  for once, that she couldn't bring herself to interrupt. Besides, she was curious to see what would happen.  
  
"Oh, you did  _not_  just use some lame power on me," Xander said, looking as if he were actually having trouble believing it. "What is it, telekinesis, like Willow has?" He shook his head, falling into what seemed to be his standard snarky mode. "Wow, does the levitation of pencils and the brutal shoving of me backwards a whole ten feet just scare me so much... except for how it doesn't." He made a show of cracking his knuckles, one by one, shaking out his hands, and then bending over to pick up something off of the ground. One of the construction crews responsible for converting the mansion grounds into a school campus had left a pile of miscellaneous debris near the entrance. Out of that pile, Xander pulled a short section of iron rebar, a little over two feet long. At nearly an inch thick, it was a heavy, dangerous weapon, and Buffy realized for the first time that despite his goofy demeanor, Xander was actually a fairly big, fit-looking young man. When he stepped forward, the bar swinging loosely back and forth in his hand, the tall girl moved off to her right, drawing him away from Buffy.  
  
"Xander! Don't!" Willow's desperate plea was ignored, and she turned to look at Buffy. "Do something! Stop them!"  
  
Buffy shrugged carelessly, using the opportunity to withdraw a gold compact from her small shoulder bag.  
  
"He's your friend, not mine." She said absently, checking her face in the small mirror. Her nose had slammed into the signboard pretty solidly during that second collision, and though it was tender, it seemed to be unbroken. "Besides, he can't really be hurt, right?" She put the compact away.  
  
"That's right," Xander chimed in, never looking away from the girl he was stalking. "Burn me, freeze me, electrocute me, throw me... whatever you do, I can always come back for more." He was close to the girl, now. Buffy, watching from the sidelines, was sure it was because she  _wanted_  him close. The two were the same height, though Xander was significantly heavier and more muscular than the girl. He grinned, made a sudden, vicious swing with his iron weapon, then swung it again when his opponent slipped nimbly away. The second attack was closer, and the third came closer still.  
  
"So, which one are you going to try?" he asked her mockingly. "Or are you just going to try and beat me up?"  
  
She smiled back at him, a scary,  _evil_  smile.  
  
"How about 'none of the above'?" she asked, and when he swung at her again, with all his strength and weight behind it, she moved forward to meet him.   
  
Something happened there, some  _thing_  flared into existence in her hand; an eye-searing piece of brilliant, violet-hued...  _something_. Whatever it was, it met the iron rod as it came whistling down at her head; met it, and sheared through it like a chainsaw through crème cheese. Xander flinched back, his eyes following the end of his weapon as it went flying off to the side. Hastily backpedaling, he looked down at the short, useless remains he still held in his hand, then flung it at the girl. She was advancing towards him, still smiling, and she didn't even break stride. Her empty hand came up in a slow, almost lazy gesture, and a brief flare of violet light came and went in an instant, defecting the projectile as if it had struck a solid wall. Buffy, squinting against the glare, was now able to see that the thing in the girl's other hand was shaped like some sort of exotic weapon; a knife, with a wickedly barbed, double-pointed blade. Xander, still backing away, threw one quick glance behind him, looking for a place to run, or a place to hide.  
  
That was a mistake.  
  
The instant he looked away, the tall girl flashed forward. She didn't run towards him, or even leap towards him... she just  _moved_ , like some invisible rubber band had snapped her across the intervening distance with impossible speed. Xander's head came back around just in time to see the glare of that violet blade pass underneath his chin, taking his throat out in a spray of bright arterial blood. He gagged, staggering back another pace, and the girl spun through a graceful pirouette. Another blade, identical to the first, materialized in her other hand as she swept it through a looping, upwards arc, which gutted the young man from crotch to chin, neatly bisecting the other cut she had inflicted an instant earlier. Stepping back, she watched as he tried to keep his organs from spilling out, mostly succeeded (mostly), and then slowly keeled over backwards to crash onto the red stained grass.  
  
"Xanderrrrr!" Willow shrieked, running to his side. Buffy, for her part, watched in shock as the girl let her violet energy knives fade into nothingness, and then walk calmly over to join her. When they were standing face to face, she looked up at the taller girl, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.  
  
"I--" She closed her mouth, swallowed, and then tried again. "I can't believe you  _did_  that!" Peering around the girl confirmed that yes, it really had happened. Xander was lying there like a gutted fish--he was even thrashing around like one--with Willow trying to hold him still long enough to put her hands on his wounds. Although the wound-to-hand ratio seemed to be pretty extreme.... Buffy shook her head, looking back at the girl. "I mean, don't you think that was a little excessive?"  
  
The purple-haired maniac had the nerve to smile at her.  
  
"Not really. And besides, 'excessive' is sort of my thing. Among other things."  
  
Buffy didn't have a good answer for that, so instead she fell back to practicalities.  
  
"I have to get out of here," she mumbled, hastily grabbing up her bags. "I got thrown out of my last school, and all I did there was break a few bones. And dangle the quarterback from the roof by his ankle." The other girl beat her to her duffel bag, picking it up with only slight difficulty and slinging it over her shoulder. She shot the blonde an amused look.  
  
"Really? They threw you out for  _that_?"  
  
Buffy thought about rescuing her bag from the other girl, decided against it, and hurried towards the entrance doors.  
  
"Well, there might have been a small case of me burning down the gym, but I swear, it was full of Vamp--" She broke off, shook her head, and swallowed what she'd been about to say. "It was full of evil mutants who were trying to kill me, and a lot of other people."  
  
That got her the most impressed look the girl had given her so far.  
  
"Fuck me, B; I thought you were all cute and stuff, but you're pretty hardcore."  
  
Passing through the doors, pausing just long enough to hold one open for her companion, Buffy hurried inside.  
  
"Oh, I'm cute too. The hardcore comes as a factory extra." They found themselves at the base of a staircase leading up, with signs directing them to the upper floors for their room assignments. "And by the way, I'm getting tired of thinking of you as 'that scary girl with the purple hair. Do you  _have_  a name?"  
  
"Yep. I'm Faith." She reached out and gripped Buffy's hand, ganger-style. "Pleased to meet you."  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
"Faith. Okay, nice to meet you too... I think." Looking behind them, she saw several people, including what might have been school administrator types, heading outside to investigate the commotion. If she cocked her head, she could still hear Willow's screams, despite some really excellent modern soundproofing in the building. She hurried a little faster, and when they reached the second floor landing she bypassed it, and headed them up towards the third, and highest floor.  
  
"Um, just out of curiosity, what exactly did you use on him?" She nodded towards the girl's hands, which currently looked completely innocent and harmless. "I've never seen a power like that before."  
  
Faith glanced down at the hands in question, then back at Buffy with a somewhat wicked smile.  
  
"I think the name for it is 'Badass glowy things that really fuck people up'. That's the technical name for it, anyway." Amazingly, and in spite of her best efforts not to, Buffy found herself smiling at that, just a little. When they reached the third floor they stopped together, and moved as one to where a window overlooked that side of the building. A small crowd of people were gathered down on the grassy lawn, and she saw that Xander was still where he had fallen. Someone was giving him mouth to mouth, and someone else seemed to be attempting CPR, although managing that without having one's hands slip inside the open chest cavity looked to be a real challenge. Willow, crying hysterically, was trying to get to him, but was being held back by people who didn't understand that she could heal.   
  
Buffy frowned, surprised to find herself a little worried.  
  
"You don't think he was lying to us, do you? About being immortal?" Faith peered down, then shrugged and turned away.  
  
"We can only hope." There was a chart there, beside a door that led into the hallway beyond. Bending close, Faith inspected it, then looked up with a pleased smile. "Hey, they're all double rooms, but there's a corner one that's still empty." A subtle, yet profoundly disconcerting something crept into her eyes as she gazed at the smaller girl.   
  
"How about it? Wanna be roomies?"  
  
* * * * *


	2. Alpha Bitches

  
  
There were a few other students wandering around the third floor of the dorm, all female, all somewhere in their teens. Since there didn't seem to be fixed room assignments, most of the girls seemed to be trying to find someone they liked well enough to live with, and then the pair would pick a room to call home. Even though Buffy knew basically nothing about Faith, she decided to go ahead and stand by her promise to partner up with her. Certainly the other girl was well able to protect herself, which was great because Buffy was sick and tired of fighting monsters on behalf of stupid, defenseless, and  _ungrateful_  strangers.  
  
 _Plus there's the thing where she inflicted a mind-boggling amount of smackdown on that moron Xander to protect me--gotta love_ that!  
  
A pleased little half-smile tugged at her mouth for an instant, then vanished when she found the room number they'd been looking for.  
  
"Here, this looks like it." At the last room on the left she paused, set down a suitcase for a moment to free her hand, and opened the door. Faith followed her inside, and they both stopped to take it in.  
  
"Nice," was the taller girl's comment, and Buffy could only nod in agreement.   
  
It was big, for starters, an L-shaped room with pairs of large windows in the opposite and right-hand walls. The two beds were both ornate affairs with headboards of some dark, richly-carved wood that looked  _very_  expensive. There were two desks of the same design against the left wall, separated by a massive bookcase which came pre-stocked with a couple hundred impressively thick books. The vanity and mirror in the corner looked like antiques; even the wallpaper had an old-fashioned appearance, though the building itself still smelled of newly sawn wood and freshly-applied paint. The light fixtures were of polished brass and crystal, the carpet soft and almost deep enough to get lost in.  
  
Honestly, the rich elegance of the room wouldn't have looked out of place in some centuries-old European palace, though of course Buffy wasn't going to let her pleased surprise show.  
  
"It's not bad, I suppose... for someplace I'm being forced to stay against my will." Faith gave her a disbelieving look even as she moved to investigate one of the huge, overstuffed chairs. Dropping her backpack and Buffy's duffel bag on the floor, she plopped down, then leaned back with a sigh.  
  
"I don't know about you, but sleeping in  _this_  thing would be an upgrade over anyplace I've ever crashed before." The blonde girl's reply was an elaborately disinterested shrug, though she couldn't help taking a look around the place. There were two fair-sized closets, a massive dresser with a dozen drawers for yet more clothes storage, a mini-fridge, and a nice stereo system. On each desk there stood a state-of-the-art personal computer complete with an oversized flat screen monitor. Parked beside each of those was a sleek, lightweight laptop.  
  
The room's other door opened onto a large bathroom, and her exclamation at what she found in there was enough to get Faith out of her comfy chair to come and see what was the matter.  
  
"Okay, it's a bathroom. So what?"  
  
Buffy looked at her indignantly, and pulled the other girl into the room.  
  
"It's not just a bathroom, it's  _amazing_! Look, double sinks! Marble counters and tile!" She walked to the far end, and nearly squealed with joy at what she found there.  
  
"There's a shower  _and_  a bathtub, and it's  _huge_!" Being a smallish person had few advantages, but one of them was being able to float comfortably in an average-sized tub. This one was longer, twice as deep, and twice as wide as the one at home, and would almost serve her as a hot tub. "Ohmigod! A built-in Jacuzzi!" Now it was Faith's turn to shrug, and Buffy shook her head sadly. "You poor, uncivilized person. Where horrible place are you from, anyway; some forgotten forest where you were raised by wolves?"  
  
"People usually just call it 'Boston'," Faith answered, turning to walk back into the room. "And I  _was_  raised by wolves, only these were the kind that have guns and knives instead of big, sharp teeth." Buffy looked after her, wondering at the story behind  _that_ cryptic remark, then shook her head and went back to inspecting the amazing bathroom. Each sink had its own mirror, both framed by rows of large-bulbed stage lights, which would be wonderfully helpful when putting on makeup. She was trying to decide which side she wanted to claim as her own when her enhanced hearing caught Faith's quiet voice from out in the main room.  
  
"Well, damn, Chuck; why don'tcha go ahead and fuck me sideways while you're at it?"  
  
Buffy blinked, frowned, and walked back out.  
  
"I'm sorry, who do  _what_  to you?" When she saw what Faith was holding she stopped short, and felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. "Oh."  
  
Faith was beside the further of the two beds, and was holding up a brilliantly pink suitcase adorned with 'Hello Kitty!' decals. With a growing sense of dread, Buffy moved to check beside the nearer bed. Sure enough, there was a small pile of luggage on the floor there also that they hadn't noticed when they came in.  
  
"Darn," Buffy sighed. "Okay, we'll just have to settle for one of the other rooms is all." To say that Faith looked unhappy would have been an understatement. Even so, she gathered up her pack and the smaller girl's duffel with only a few muttered obscenities. Buffy herself would miss those huge windows, but figured that every room would otherwise be set up pretty much exactly the same, so at least the downgrade would be bearable.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Um...." She was actually dazed by what they'd found, and it took her several seconds to find her voice after that first involuntary word. "Okay, they're  _kidding_ , right?"  
  
The room next door might as well have been on another continent, given how different it was from the first one. Barely half the size of the corner room, it featured low, metal-framed beds, plain white walls, and a pair of desks that looked like they'd been bought at Office Depot. The computers looked to be the same, though with smaller, cheaper monitors... and there were no laptops. The door of the one small closet was only a couple of feet from the bathroom, and when Buffy peered cautiously inside she felt physically ill. A single sink, small mirror, toilet and shower; no bathtub at all... and the room was barely big enough for her to turn around in without bumping into something. She spared a single glance for the florescent light overhead, and then she stalked angrily back into the larger room.  
  
Such as it was.  
  
Faith turned to look at her, and Buffy saw her own opinion of the place mirrored in that starkly beautiful face.  
  
"Screw  _this_ ," the tall girl growled. Buffy nodded in agreement.  
  
"Fifty different  _kinds_  of 'no'," she said emphatically, then paused and peered around uncertainly. "I wonder why they did this; did the construction company pocket most of the cash for these other rooms and think nobody would ever notice, or...?"  
  
Faith shrugged, looking down and dragging the toe of her boot across the thin, commercial-grade carpeting.   
  
"Do you really want to stand around and worry about that right now?" she asked. Buffy gave her a tight, mirthless smile.  
  
"When you put it that way, not so much, no." She marched towards the door. "C'mon, let's readjust our housing situation while we have the chance." Faith was right behind her as she re-entered the corner room and dropped her belongings. Moving like they'd practiced it, each girl went to a bed, gathered up the luggage there, and carried it out into the hall. In unison they tossed it all into an untidy pile. Buffy did an about-face, and walked back inside. Faith closed the door behind them, and they both took a moment to look around at their wonderful room.  
  
"Glad we got here before anybody else," she said, pushing her long, purple hair back from her face. "'Cause those other rooms really suck." Buffy smiled as she strolled over and folded her arms, considering the layout of the furniture, especially as it pertained to the sleeping situation.  
  
"That's what I hear," she said absently, then looked over her shoulder at the other girl. "So. Who gets which bed?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Not long after the two of them had claimed their room, Faith found a small stack of papers sitting beside each of the computers. Included there was a copy of the day's schedule, and a mandatory assembly was scheduled to begin in a little less than two hours.   
  
"That gives us time to look around a little beforehand, if you want," Buffy said, looking up when she finished reading through her handout. Faith, having skipped the reading part, was now busy jumping up and down on her bed (the bed that Buffy had wanted, only she'd lost the coin toss). In answer to the other girl's comment she made a neutral sound that could have been either positive or negative, and kept going with the bouncing. Something odd was going on there, and Buffy had to watch for several seconds before she realized what was bothering her. At the top of each bounce, Faith was hanging in midair for maybe a half-second longer than she should have. It wasn't levitation; it wasn't even blatantly obvious.  
  
It was, however, pretty neat to watch.  
  
"Um, anyway," she said eventually, blinking and looking back down at the schedule. "We have time, so why stay in here when we can go check things out?"   
  
Faith made that same, indecipherable sound, and ended her last bounce with a boneless flop backwards that left her sprawled atop the ornate comforter.  
  
"Whatever," the girl added after a moment. "It's not like we're gonna miss out on seeing the whole place later, since we'll be here for days and weeks and months." Buffy, moving to retrieve several items from her luggage, smiled faintly.  
  
"This is true. What I  _really_  want to do is meet some of the other students. Since we'll be here for 'days and weeks and months', it's probably a good idea to start figuring out which ones are worth getting to know, and which ones we want to avoid, right?" Faith propped herself up on her elbows and regarded Buffy through a veil of mussed purple hair.  
  
"After what I did to that Xander guy, I'd think the assholes would know enough to steer clear. But hey; if you wanna go scope things out anyway it's cool with me. Maybe I'll find somebody else who needs cutting down to size." She looked genuinely hopeful when she said that, and the blonde almost regretted her earlier decision.  
  
 _Ack! I really hope this girl isn't as far out there as she seems. One minute she's all mysterious and hyper-deadly, the next she's bouncing around like a ten-year-old who's never seen a nice bed before, then she's right back into bloodthirsty mode. I'm starting to think this is not the world's most stable person I'm dealing with here._  
  
Still, she had to admit that having someone like Faith on her side would be to her advantage. Also there was the thing where kicking the girl to the curb now would mean having an angry Faith lurking in random hallways, looking to even the score....  
  
"Okay then!" Buffy exclaimed brightly. "Give me ten minutes to repair this damage and then we're good to go." Faith waved a hand in what was apparently agreement, then dropped back to lie on the bed, raking the hair back from her face and staring at the ceiling. Carrying an awkward armload of supplies, Buffy made her way into the bathroom, deposited it all on the counter, and started figuring out where everything was going to go.  
  
 _Curling iron here, hair dryer beside it--nice that there's plenty of outlets in here--moisturizing crèmes here, facial scrubs, the make-up is going to have to have a whole area all to itself, somewhere...._  
  
Since Faith had gotten the better bed--in the far corner, where the one girl going back and forth to the bathroom wouldn't constantly be waking the other as she tried to sleep--Buffy felt no guilt in claiming the larger portion of the available counter for herself. After she had the basics arranged to her satisfaction, she looked in the mirror, sighed, and started working on her hair. The two collisions outside had loosened the clips holding part of the arrangement in place, so she had to take it all down and do it again from the beginning.   
  
"Hope I didn't freak you out too much, out there," Faith said from the other room. "With the knives and stuff, I mean." Buffy, busy brushing the minor snags out of her silky blonde mane, paused for a moment at the genuine concern she heard lurking in the other girl's voice.  
  
"No, you didn't...." she said, slowly. "I mean, you did freak me out, yes, but I've seen things like that before. Violent things, I mean." Looking into her reflection's eyes, she grimaced, and went back to her brushing.  
  
"That deal at your high school?" Faith asked. Buffy nodded, realized the girl couldn't see her, and answered out loud.  
  
"Yeah, the deal at my high school. Those were--" Monsters. They'd been monsters; horrible, deformed, and bloodthirsty. "--They were really, really bad guys," she finished, reaching out to turn on the faucet. Her makeup was smudged too, of course, and she scrubbed it away with a damp washcloth so she could redo that as well.  
  
"So...." the other girl said after a minute's silence. "This whole deal with you being sent here to the super-special school for muties is because of that?" Buffy frowned into the mirror, a little irritated by Faith's relentless curiosity. It wasn't an unreasonable question, though, and she could certainly understand wanting to know more about the new girl.  
  
"Basically, yes," she said as she resumed scrubbing. "Mom was worried about my 'violent behavior'; I think she's scared I'm going to turn into one of those crazy people with the costumes and the bank robberies and the FBI wanted posters." She heard a laugh out in the other room.  
  
"Dude. With the shit I can do, robbing a bank would be  _so_  fucking easy. How long to you think it'd take me to carve through one of those big vaults? Like, two minutes?" Buffy laughed right back.  
  
"Yeah, and how many times do you think you'd get  _shot_  during those two minutes? Can you knock down bullets as easy as you blocked that bar Xander threw at you?" A sort of sullen silence was her answer, and she grinned to herself at the minor victory.  
  
 _Maybe I can keep her from doing anything_  too  _stupid, and in return she can watch my back for me. Having someone to do that would have been really handy while I was fighting those vampire guys in L.A._  
  
A few sounds of movement came to her while she finished wiping her face and started on pinning up her hair, though she didn't think anything of it until Faith spoke up again.  
  
"Okay, maybe you're not robbing banks, but you musta made  _some_  kind of score. Because this is a  _lot_  of loot!" That brought her up short, and she stopped what she was doing and walked to the doorway so she could look out into the room.  
  
Faith was sitting cross-legged on the bed; on  _Buffy's_  bed, with both of the girl's smaller suitcases open in front of her. Piles of clothing, cases, boxes and bags were all around her, and she looked up with an innocent expression on her face.  
  
"What?"  
  
Buffy tried for a look of thunderous fury, and had to settle for a bemused scowl.  
  
"'What'? How about 'What do you think you're  _doing_ '?" Faith, completely unfazed by the scowl, just smirked her little smirk.  
  
"I guess I'm either helping you unpack, or snooping through your shit; whichever one ends up with you not booting me through the window." Buffy's lips twitched, though she managed to keep from smiling.  
  
"That would definitely be the unpacking one," she said. Faith nodded.   
  
"Exactly. Like I said: I'm helping you unpack." She leaned over and poked one pile with a slender finger. "Did you know you have nineteen different kinds of stuff to put on your hair? Look, here's shampoo and conditioner, which I'm totally cool with, but then you go crazy with the hair glaze, spray-on hair glitter, intensive conditioning treatment, anti-frizz serum, split-ends repair, hair spray, mousse to keep your hair straight, mousse to keep your hair curly, mousse that says it works better than either of the other two, hair volumizer, spray that protects your hair from the sun, spray that makes your hair look like it's been in the sun, some 'shimmer & shine for blondes', a kit for 'honey-gold highlights', and something called 'intensive restructuring formula' that I don't even  _know_  what it's supposed to do...." She sorted through the multicolored array of cans, bottles and tubes, an increasingly awestruck expression on her face. "You even have more than one brand of some of them; there's three kinds of shampoo and  _five_  kinds of conditioner...." Buffy watched the other girl going through her things and wondered why her usual indignant anger hadn't shown up on cue. If she'd caught anyone else invading her privacy like this, the ambulance would already be on its way to retrieve the wounded. Now, however, she only shook her head as she leaned over, picked a fresh blouse out of one pile, and went back into the bathroom.  
  
"It's not  _that_  bad," she said, pulling off the blouse with the torn and bloodied sleeve. Standing there in her bra and skirt she checked her arm; the scrapes on the elbow were completely scabbed-over, though it would be another couple of hours before the new skin finished growing in. "I mean, you're a girl too. You spend time on makeup and everything, and obviously that hair didn't get to be purple all on it's own." Busy cleaning dried blood off of her arm, she paused, considered that last bit, and then called out again.  
  
"That hair  _didn't_  get to be purple all on its own, did it?" Because if being a mutant could let people fly, and heal, and bend steel bars with their bare hands, then some unusual hair probably wasn't such a big deal....  
  
"No, that was me," she heard the other girl say. "I thought it would look pretty bad-ass if I dyed it to match my knives." More sounds of rummaging reached her, then the  _snapclick_  of her second, larger makeup kit being opened. "Gee, what a surprise; a metric shitload of moisturizer and body lotion and revitalizing crème... and what looks like basically the whole cosmetics aisle of your average trendy boutique." Buffy sighed as she pulled the clean blouse over her head, and checked in the mirror to make sure her hair was still in place.  
  
"Okay, okay; I'll admit it. I spend lots of time in girly-girl mode. I like dressing up, and I like looking nice."  
  
The water in the sink was still running, and Faith dropped her voice to a whispered mumble, but Buffy's ears still caught her reply.  
  
"Well, mission accomplished there, miss girly-girl, 'cause you're definitely lookin'  _wicked_  nice from where I'm standing...."  
  
Buffy stopped her artful arrangement of a few dangly tendrils of hair, grinned at her reflection, then cleared her throat loudly.  
  
"Hey, Faith?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
She leaned around the corner of the doorway and gave the girl her best attempt at helpful, wide-eyed innocence.  
  
"Remember when I told you I have super-sensitive hearing? Well, I  _wasn't_  kidding." Faith looked at her for a long moment, motionless as a deer staring into headlights, and then blinked, turned her head, and seemed to see the contents of the second open suitcase for the first time.  
  
"Great shoes there, B," she said, her careless tone doing nothing to hide the flush that momentarily tinted her pale face pink. Buffy nodded amiably, pretending that she hadn't seen.  
  
"Yep. Dad lets me do all kinds of damage to his credit card when it's his turn for a weekend with me." She leaned over to snag the kit holding her makeup, itself as large as some people's overnight bags. Carrying it into the bathroom, she sorted through until she found what she needed for a quick once-over. It wasn't like she was going on a date or anything, of course. Still, there was no way she was going to meet a small crowd of high-school girls with a shiny nose, or any hint of even a tiny pimple showing. While her hands worked at that, her mind was replaying all the looks Faith had been giving her since that first moment out in front of the school. Added to what she'd just heard, it was pretty obvious what was going on.  
  
 _Faith has a girl-crush, Faith has a girrrrl-cruuuush!_  she sang silently, carefully keeping her amusement within the privacy of her own thoughts.  _God, I love it when people get all smitten with me._  
  
It was, after all, far from the first time it had happened. Being one of the prettiest and most popular girls at her old school had some great benefits: free rides to school, home, or almost anywhere else she wanted to go, nerdy types eager to do her homework for her, and a nearly endless supply of jocks lining up for the privilege of dating her. She'd restricted herself to a select few, of course; nobody respected someone with a reputation as a slut.  
  
"I can't help noticin' that all seven pairs are high-heels."  
  
Buffy, brushing powder across her nose with a soft brush, made a sound of protest.  
  
"All seven pairs are very  _expensive_  high heels, thank you very much," she huffed theatrically. "And when you're basically five-foot nothing, like me, heels are a necessity, not an accessory." More movement out on the bed, and more sounds of the other girl sorting through the luggage.  
  
"Seriously, B; you didn't bring one pair of tennis shoes?"   
  
Buffy turned her head from side to side, inspecting her reflection critically, decided it would have to do, and then started with the eyeliner.  
  
"I don't play tennis," she said absently, concentrating on her task.  
  
"Yeah, but what if you want to jog, or have to run away from someone?"  
  
She switched to the other eye, and for the thousandth time thanked whatever genetic quirk had given her enhanced coordination as one of her mutant gifts; it  _really_  saved her time with this sort of thing.  
  
"Why in the world would I want to go jogging? And I don't run away from things, either. They either leave me alone or I bludgeon them until they fall down and stop moving." A quick pass over her lips with her favorite cherry-flavored lip-gloss, and she was all set. Strolling out into the room, she found Faith looking down at the contents of the huge duffel she'd lugged upstairs earlier. Those dark eyes raised to her own, and they were wide with disbelief.  
  
"You didn't bring any normal shoes, but you packed a set of sheets, a blanket, and your own pillow?"  
  
Buffy tilted her head in puzzlement.  
  
"Sure, doesn't everybody?"  
  
Faith laughed, and in that unguarded moment she looked years younger than the blonde had first placed her.  
  
"Only crazy people, far as I know." She reached behind her and pulled down the exquisitely made comforter. There were two pillows there, in satin slipcases, and she tossed one to Buffy. "See? I'm guessin' most places give those to you as part of the whole 'bed' thing, you know?" The smaller girl examined the pillow, and her lip curled in distaste.  
  
"Ew. This has  _feathers_  in it. If I sleep on this, my face will break out like crazy--I'll look like a plague victim by morning." Faith looked at her searchingly for a minute, apparently trying to decide if she was being serious.  
  
"Okay, and the sheets? No feathers there."   
  
Buffy shook her head, putting out a hand to touch the finely-made sheets.   
  
"Too rough; I'd toss and turn all night and never get any sleep. Mine are Egyptian cotton. You wouldn't  _believe_  how big a difference there is."  
  
Faith half-grinned, and looked at her sidelong.  
  
"You're totally screwing with me here, right?"  
  
"Not at all. My skin is very sensitive." Buffy looked at the pillow she was still holding, and looked for something to do with it. Just holding the feather-filled thing was starting to make her itch. Before she could spot a suitable place to toss it, they were both startled by the door to the room suddenly swinging open.  
  
"Hey!" A girl she'd never seen before was standing there, glaring at both of them in a very unfriendly fashion.  
  
"Can I help you?" Buffy asked politely.  
  
"Don't you know how to fucking knock?" Faith said, somewhat less politely.  
  
The girl looked from one to the other, and made a curt gesture at the pile of stuff in the hallway behind her.  
  
"Why are all my things out here? What are you two doing in my room?!"  
  
Buffy gave her a friendly, entirely fake smile.  
  
"I think I saw the bellhop person put your luggage there; terrible service in this place, really. You should complain to the manager."  
  
Faith twisted around on the bed till she was propped on one elbow, with the fingers of the other hand moving idly over the tight leather covering her hip.  
  
"And we're not in your room, you're in  _our_  room. I think the only one still open is next door... which is a shame because that place is a real shithole." The girl's face was perfectly composed as she said it; it was her dark eyes that sparkled with glee. The stranger in the doorway sputtered, her voice rising in both pitch and volume.  
  
"I  _am_  going to complain! About both of you! If you think for one  _second_  that you can steal my room out from under-- _Oooph_!"  
  
Even though the feather pillow was soft, it still had some weight to it. So when Buffy flicked it across the room, and straight into the girl's belly with a flicker-swift sideways snap of her arm, it folded her over with a pained wheeze. She stumbled backwards three steps, gasping for breath, and Faith made a little gesture with her hand that slammed the door in her face. The two girls looked at each other for several seconds. Then:  
  
"Seriously?" Faith said from her position sprawled on the bed. "You really have some kind of princess and the pea thing where you have to sleep on sheets of Nigerian silk--"  
  
"They're Egyptian cotton! Jeez, what is it that's so hard to believe? Some of us are more refined than you ruffians, you know, with your motorcycles and your tattoos and all the... street lingo...." Faith snorted.  
  
"Yeah, you're a delicate flower all right. If I look through those bags some more am I gonna find a box of those disposable toilet seat covers, to protect your oh-so-pure backside from all the nasty-bad germs and stuff that are out to get you?"  
  
Buffy folded her hands primly and raised her nose a precise fraction higher.  
  
"My personal hygiene... precautions... are none of your business young lady!" She couldn't keep the smile from stealing over her lips as she said it, and Faith grinned back at her. Then Buffy went mock-serious, and marched over to the other bed. "And it occurs to me that if it's okay for you to 'help' me with unpacking, I can do the same for you." A coy glance over her shoulder showed Faith bolting upright with a look of genuine alarm. The girl was on her feet in an instant, and across the room in seconds--too late to prevent Buffy from snatching up the backpack.  
  
"Hey!" Faith said, loudly, trying to grab it out of the smaller girl's hands. "You don't need to look in there. I'm sorry about getting in your shit--c'mon!" Buffy danced back, ducked under an outstretched arm, and skipped nimbly around the end of the bed and up the other side, always managing to keep the backpack out of Faith's reach.  
  
"Looky there, the big girl can't get her bag away from the little girl," she said, her voice smug. "And all with me in high heels, too; imagine that."  
  
Faith stopped, and stood there glowering at her.  
  
"Fine. Okay, go ahead and look. Fair's fair, like you said." Buffy, suspecting a trick, slowly pulled the top flap open, still keeping her eyes on the other girl. Feeling around inside with one hand, she pursed her lips in disapproval.  
  
"Ha, cigarettes. What a shock."  
  
"Yeah, yeah; so I'm a cliche. Gimme," Faith said, reaching out to take the little package the blonde had held up. She withdrew one of the cigarettes from the package and put it to her lips, lighting it with a small lighter she'd somehow managed to jam into her pants pocket. Buffy shook her head, though her only comment was: "My clothes and sheets had better not end up smelling like smoke."   
  
Faith rolled her eyes, but moved back around the bed to the window. Sliding it up to let in the outside air, she perched one hip on the sill and sat there, watching Buffy. The blonde girl nodded, satisfied, and peered down into the depths of the pack.  
  
"Hmm. A blouse, in an odd shade of purple-slash-cranberry--"  
  
"Matches the--" Faith started to say.   
  
"--the knives," Buffy finished for her. "Okay, alright, I get the color scheme thing you've got going on here." She set the wadded up garment on the bed and reached in again. "A pair of jeans, of the hip-hugger variety," she set those aside as well, firmly suppressing a faintly naughty thought which involved Faith changing into those jeans while Buffy watched. "Um, chewing gum, tropical fruit flavored... running shoes, Adidas... a bag of suckers--looks like someone has an oral fixation, hmm?" Nearly at the bottom of the pack, she'd nearly given up on finding anything interesting when--  
  
"...And then a little something belonging to John Rambo...." She pulled the object out and held it up. It was a knife--a real one, made of steel, in a black leather sheath. Glancing at Faith, she pulled it free and looked at the blade. It was a familiar shape: a wickedly-barbed thing with gleaming edges and a double point. "This is...?"  
  
"My old one," Faith said, pausing to blow a stream of smoke towards the open window. "That's the one I used before the mutant power thing showed up. I guess that's why my blades look the way they do; my mind made 'em something I was comfortable with. Or something like that." She turned her head and looked outside as she took another drag on her cigarette. For her part, Buffy looked at the knife more closely. This wasn't a showpiece, good for nothing besides being hung on some wall. The thing was a functional, deadly weapon, and even though it was carefully cared for, there were scratches and nicks that hadn't happened while it was sitting somewhere gathering dust.  
  
"'The one you used'?" Buffy repeated questioningly. That got her nothing except some really good ignorage from the other girl, so she put the knife down on the bed. There was only one thing left in the bottom of the pack, a cloth-covered bundle about as big as a child's lunchbox. She lifted it with both hands, almost afraid to look inside. Carefully unwrapping it, she found it held... money. A startled sound escaped her, and several bundles of bills dropped back inside the backpack.  
  
"What is this? Faith?" The other girl shrugged, avoiding her gaze.  
  
"About four thousand dollars, last time I counted it." Buffy stared at the purple-haired stranger, and wondered again just what she'd gotten into because of one hasty decision.  
  
"And you got four thousand dollars  _how_?" Faith finally met her eyes, shifted her cigarette to her right hand, and held up the left. Violet light flared, and a twin to the metal knife appeared in her hand, this one made of that strange energy. A moment later it faded and was gone. Buffy blinked, and took a slow breath. "Oh."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They sat there for several minutes, neither one speaking. When Faith's cigarette burned low she tossed the butt out the window and lit another. Buffy stood looking at the money. It was mostly small bills, fives, tens and twenties, with the occasional hundred. The kind of thing most any corner market or liquor store might have in its register. A few of the bills on top of the stacks were speckled with rust-brown spots that could have been dried blood. She knew what dried blood looked like because vampires bled when she fought them. They bled a  _lot_  when she fought them... and then they didn't do much of anything at all.   
  
Buffy tried to pin down what she was feeling, and couldn't. Things weren't always black and white, she knew that from her experiences over the last few months, after her mutant powers had manifested themselves. Whatever Faith had done, did anyone else have the right to judge her? More specifically, did Buffy have the right to judge her?   
  
 _And what do I do about it, anyway? Call the police? Report her to the Principal? What if somebody at my old school had turned_ me  _in? Would that have been fair? Would it have made things better?_  She knew the answer to that one. Without her, even more of the students would have been killed, especially the night of the dance.  _So maybe I should just keep my mouth shut, keep my head down, and concentrate on not getting involved with the police for awhile, right?_  Nodding to herself, Buffy looked up at the other girl, opened her mouth--and whipped her head around to look at the door.  
  
"Whoops!" Moving with more-than-human speed, she dropped the rest of the cash into the backpack, threw the knife after it, and stuffed Faith's clothes in on top. Dropping the pack to the floor by her feet, she looked up, pasted a bored expression on her face, and--  
  
\--The door slammed open, revealing their little friend from before, and another girl of about the same age. Faith, who'd been watching Buffy's frantic movements in confusion, shifted easily into a look of annoyance.  
  
"Okay, what did I tell you about knocking?"  
  
The first girl, the one with the red hair from before, stepped boldly into the room. Jabbing her finger towards Buffy, she spoke in a loud, determined voice.  
  
"My name is Cassandra Vandeveer, and this is  _my_  room!" Her friend stepped forward to take up a position at the other's shoulder.  
  
"We were here first!" she declared in a somewhat higher voice. "Our things were in here, and you threw them out in the hall!"  
  
Buffy turned with studied deliberation to look at Faith.  
  
"Her name is Cassandra Vandeveer."   
  
"I heard. That supposed to mean something?"  
  
Buffy frowned.   
  
"I think so, or she wouldn't have announced it like that."  
  
Cassandra, watching this exchange, grew visibly more agitated by the second.  
  
"We were here! We put our things in here, so it's ours!" She pointed again, this time at Faith. "And you can't be smoking in here, either! Not in our room, not even inside the building!" The tall girl's eyebrows rose, and she took a long, deliberate inhale, then blew it in the direction of the ranting redhead.  
  
"Wanna come over here and do something about it?"  
  
The second intruder, the one with short black hair, put her hand on Cassandra's arm to hold her back.  
  
"Let's just get our things, and put them back in here." She glared at them both. "We'll stay in here and call one of the staff; _they'll_  straighten these two out for us."  
  
Buffy, who had idly pulled the covers on Faith's bed back so that she could pick up a pillow, looked across at her friend.  
  
"They're going to get their things. The ones we threw out in the hall."   
  
Faith nodded sagely.  
  
"Throwing things out into the hall is wrong. We should never do that again."  
  
"Never ever," Buffy agreed. Then she looked at the two girls standing there, looking back at them, and smiled.  
  
"Look out--" the black-haired one yelled, and then she  _split_. Her outline blurred, and it was like another of her, a perfect copy, stepped forward while the original stayed where she'd been standing. An instant later, and another copy stepped into existence too, leaving the first version slightly behind the two new ones. Beside her, Cassandra Vandeveer's eyes were glowing with pale light, and Buffy's head suddenly felt like it was going to explode.  
  
"Whoa _okayohcrapohwhatisahhhh--_ " She grabbed at the bed to keep herself upright as the entire room seemed to flip completely upside down, flip again, and then keep right on flipping, faster and faster while her head hurt so badly she thought her ears might start bleeding. It was nearly impossible to pick out any details of what was happening around her, but she thought she heard Cassandra give a mocking laugh, just as Faith called out:  
  
Hey! Whiny girl! You want some of her you gotta take me, too. So have some!"  
  
Buffy heard a grunt, then another, and suddenly the room righted itself and her head began to clear. She saw Faith, still standing across the bed from her, make a motion like she was slapping someone hard across the face. Across the room, Cassandra's whole body was slammed sideways, right into the doorframe. Apparently she'd been knocked backwards several steps before the sideways thing started, and now she was bouncing back and forth, from side to side, her head smacking hard into the door jamb each time as Faith telekinetically bitchslapped her, first one way and then the other. The second girl was still standing stock-still, while her two duplicates stalked towards the intently-concentrating Faith. One picked up a chair along the way, and the other grabbed a heavy lamp from the table beside the door. Buffy hefted her pillow, gauged the distance and angle, and let fly. This time it wasn't a quick little flick of her arm, either; this time she wound up like a pitcher in the major leagues. The fluffy projectile flashed across the room with a rush of displaced air, and took the motionless girl full in the face and chest. Whatever sound she made was lost in the impact, and muffled by the pillow itself. She went hurtling backwards, her feet actually leaving the ground in the process, and collided with her friend in the doorway--hard. Together the two of them tumbled out into the hall, came up against the far wall, and ended up in a tangled, groaning heap. The duplicates flickered and vanished in mid-step the instant the pillow hit, their improvised weapons dropping to the thick carpet.  
  
Buffy sighed, took a quick look around to make sure the floor and ceiling were staying where they belonged, then looked over at Faith.  
  
"Like I was saying, we need to know which people are okay to hang out with." Faith nodded in understanding.  
  
"And which ones are the losers, that aren't worth our time. Got it."   
  
Buffy looked down at the backpack on the floor beside her, and used one stylishly-outfitted foot to nudge it underneath the bed.  
  
"So," she said, "Wanna go and meet some people?"  
  
Faith shrugged, took a last drag on her cigarette, and flicked it out through the window.  
  
"Might as well. We still have lots of time to kill before that orientation thing, right?"  
  
They walked across the room, spent a few seconds putting the chair and lamp back in their proper places, then exited their room. Faith closed the door behind them, and Buffy stepped daintily over the tangled limbs of the two semi-conscious girls. Behind her, she heard Faith stop just long enough to deliver a few parting words.  
  
"You guys are lucky, aren't you? Not even unpacked yet, and you're already learning things at your new school. Like, for example, _our room!_  Got that?  _Ours!_ " She waited till she got a woozy nod from each of them before standing up straight again and catching up to Buffy. The blonde girl gave her companion a little smile, and got a smirk back. They headed down the hall, looking for someone interesting enough to talk to, and then something occurred to her.  
  
"Wait a second. You can move things with your mind!" Faith, busy peeking into rooms as they passed open doors, spared her the sort of look usually reserved for idiots and small children.  
  
"B, I think the only word I can use in response here is 'Duh'." Buffy shook her head violently, then stopped and felt her hair to make sure she hadn't loosened her updo again.   
  
"No, I mean, you can move things with your mind, and we  _flipped a coin_  to decide who got the better bed!"  
  
"Uh huh. So?"  
  
Buffy shoved the taller girl on the shoulder with one hand, hard enough to bounce her lightly off the wall of the hallway.  
  
"So?! Did you cheat?!"  
  
Faith, rubbing at her shoulder and grinning, didn't say a word.  
  
* * * * *


	3. Three Mean Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hello, and welcome to Chapter Six! Or possibly Chapter Seven!
> 
> (O_O)
> 
> Okay, sorry about this. I AM going to pick up where Chapter Two left off... next chapter. This one, however, jumps forward a short ways along the timeline. What can I say, a plot bunny appeared out of nowhere, and I had to get it down. I intentionally wrote around certain things, to minimize spoilers, but we definitely see where certain relationships are headed. Apologies for being all artsy and non-linear here, but I hope you'll enjoy this section even though it's 'airing' out of order with the rest.
> 
> Now, quiet on the set, and.... Action!

  
  
10 Days, 12 Hours and 53 minutes ago:   
  
\--And the new girl, the short blonde one, was  _letting_  it happen! She was just standing there, all aloof and unconcerned, checking her face in a mirrored compact. She was more worried about how she'd maybe bruised her cute little nose when she'd gotten knocked down again than she was about the way the other girl was attacking Xander!  
  
"Xander! Don't!" He didn't listen; he was too busy sneering at the girl, daring her to try and hurt him, and taking wild swings with the metal bar he'd picked up off the ground. Willow looked pleadingly at the little blonde again. "Do something! Stop them!" Buffy barely glanced at her before going back to examining her face.   
  
"I'm not the boss of her," she said absently. "And he's  _your_  friend, not mine." Then, apparently satisfied that she was still pretty to an utterly unfair degree, she put the compact away and watched the two opponents close in on each other. Far from trying to stop the fight from happening, the girl actually looked interested... and even a little  _pleased_  at the spectacle! "Besides," Buffy added, "He can't really be hurt, right?"   
  
Willow, giving up on any help from that quarter, could only bite her lip helplessly as her oldest friend tried his best to be macho and formidable, like his favorite movie actors.  
  
 _He's so reckless, now that he thinks he's invincible!_  she lamented to herself.  _All these years, growing up as the kid everyone picked on, and now he gets to play the tough guy action-hero... only I don't like the looks of that girl at_ all!  
  
The second girl, the one with the long purple hair, didn't seem the least bit scared of Xander. She watched him advance, she smiled and skipped aside when he swung at her, and she answered his taunts with silence. Even though her hands were empty, there was something disturbing about her confidence... although Willow probably would have been more confident herself if  _she_ were all hot, and cleavagey and effortlessly sexy. Darn it.  
  
What happened next was almost too fast for Willow to follow. Xander swung the bar at the girl, and she did something. Somehow she produced a blazing, violet-hued weapon from empty air, used it to chop the iron bar in half, and then leapt forward and slashed the boy's throat.   
  
There were other details in there, lost in the shock and tears that blurred Willow's vision, but those were the essentials. The girl took his throat out, and then she produced a  _second_  weapon and used it to slice longways up his torso, cutting deeply into his stomach and chest with ghastly ease.   
  
Willow screamed, and Xander fell back, crashing onto the ground. She ran forward and knelt at his side, drowning in waves of horror and revulsion even as her hands worked frantically to try and push loops of intestines (and other, unidentifiable things) back where they belonged. Blood was everywhere, and Xander convulsed uncontrollably, his eyes wild and unseeing.   
  
Racked by sobs, trying her best to gather enough concentration to use her healing talent, Willow caught a last glimpse of Buffy and the other girl. They were walking away like nothing had happened, carrying their luggage inside the building without a single backwards glance.   
  
Her head spinning in an overload of terror and sick disbelief, Willow's powers deserted her. All she could do for Xander was scream for someone to help them. Scream, and scream... and scream.  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
2 Days, 7 hours and 44 minutes ago:   
  
"C'mon Jesse! Show her you're da man!"  
  
Xander, long since recovered from his injuries (and some later, equally-serious wounds too) stood beside Willow and shouted encouragement to their new friend. She did her best to join in, though her calls went something like:   
  
"Yay! Go! Hit her and... um, don't let her hit you back! Or at all, actually; don't let her hit you even if you don't hit her, Jesse!"  
  
Willow couldn't help it, she hated this. The academic aspect of the school was everything that had been promised, absolutely. Only... well, there was also  _this_. A huge training area on the school grounds that was dedicated to helping the students 'master' their special abilities. And somehow, gaining that mastery seemed to include frequent sparring matches between the more physically empowered individuals, and even team vs. team battles complete with simulated weapons and mock environments to make it more realistic.  
  
Willow was very much a non-combatant, so she wasn't required to participate. Still, it worried her, watching the others go at it. Even this, a relatively tame sparring match, scared her.   
  
Although she had to admit, it would be wonderfully satisfying to see Jesse trounce Buffy Summers.  
  
"Fight smart, Jesse!" Xander shouted from the safety of their elevated vantage point. "Don't let her get close enough to use those tiny fists on you, bro!"  
  
Out on the field, the tall, lanky young man was doing his best to comply. Seconds after the match had begun, he'd already unleashed his power. Crouching to put his palms on the ground at his feet, a blaze of fierce blue-white light flared from the point of contact. He backed quickly away, keeping his hands against the earth as he moved, and in his wake there was... nothing. A gaping trench opened up in the ground, the grass and dirt there simply vanishing, leaving a gap more than ten feet wide and ten feet deep.  
  
Buffy, on the other hand, had simply waited for the signal to begin, and when it came she ran forward.  
  
She ran really, really  _fast_.  
  
They'd started the match about a hundred feet apart, and to the onlookers it seemed as if she crossed the distance in less than three heartbeats. Jesse saw it, and leapt back, abandoning his digging. Willow knew that the plan, worked out with Xander, had been to create a moat, with Jesse left standing on an island of level ground in the center. That way he would be safely out of the girl's reach, and yet still able to attack her at a distance. Now, however, it was clear that it wouldn't happen that way. He wouldn't have time to complete the barrier, so he didn't try. Instead, he waited to see which side of the trench Buffy would take as she ran forward. When she swerved right, and came at him, he sprinted forward and left, to keep the deep ditch between them for a critical few seconds. And, as they came abreast of each other, Jesse raised his hands and opened fire.  
  
Pulses of that blue-white light shot from his hands, flying at the blonde girl like smaller versions of the photon torpedoes from Xander's favorite sci-fi television show. They were fainter than they could have been; this was a pretend fight, after all. Even so, Willow knew that if they were to hit Buffy, they would instantly dissolve their way right through her clothing, and through several layers of skin too, leaving a very painful, burn-type wound. The tiny blonde, however, despite being so girly and feminine in every other way, seemed oddly indifferent to such things. The only concession to safety she made were the streamlined goggles that protected her eyes from a chance hit.  
  
Not that there was likely to  _be_  a hit. Jesse's energy spheres were fast, about as fast as a well-thrown baseball... but that simply wasn't fast enough. Buffy leapt, a long, high bound that carried her over the first two spheres, and when she came back down she went instantly into a forward roll, came up and dove forward and under another glowing projectile, leapt high again, spinning and rolling in midair to let another pair pass in front of and behind her, and managed to come down on her feet--still running. The series of moves was so fluid that it looked flatly impossible for anything human, and Xander fell abruptly silent. Not so, the observers clustered to their left.  
  
"Yeah, B! He can't touch you with that shit! Show him he can't touch you! Smash his  _face_  in!" Faith's shouts were the loudest, but a dozen other students, male and female both, were cheering right alongside her. Willow noticed that the tall girl's hands were clenched on the railing before her, like she was having to restrain herself from leaping over it and joining in alongside her roommate.  
  
When she looked back at the field, she was shocked to see the fight come to a sudden end. Jesse fired another disintegration sphere, and now that things were at much closer range it looked like it would hit. Then, somehow, at a full sprint, Buffy's body leaned far back, and one heel planted deeply into the grass in front of her. She came to an instant stop that made Willow wince; human bones would have splintered like dry sticks under that kind of stress. Buffy, not being human, didn't even bother watching the glowing orb flash past in front of her. Instead she blurred into motion once again, this time right  _at_  the trench... and of course she leapt over it.  
  
Not, however,  _straight_  over it, as Jesse had expected. Anticipating her move, he unleashed a two-fisted barrage at where he'd thought she would be... only to miss as she launched herself diagonally, at an ankle-snapping angle to her original path. She landed barely ten feet from him, launched herself forward and upwards, and passed over her taller opponent while fully upside down, her head within inches of his own. Her hands clamped onto his upper arms along the way, and a wrenching, snapping movement of her entire body flipped her groundwards--and right side up--even as it yanked Jesse bodily off his feet, up and over her head. Using his momentum as well as her own metahuman strength, she continued the movement and slammed Jesse facedown on the ground at her feet. Not as hard as she  _could_  have, true, but still  _hard_.  
  
Willow winced again; she almost thought she could feel that impact through the ground beneath her. Xander groaned, the sound lost an instant later by the wild victory screams of Faith and the other members of the Buffy fan club. Someone fired three silvery energy bolts skyward in celebration, and a crackling bolt of lightning followed an instant later. Out on the field, a barely-mussed Buffy was prodding Jesse with one foot, her expression insufferably smug. When she spoke, the distance rendered it inaudible, but Willow could read her lips well enough to make it out.  
  
"Wanna go two out of three?" Her fallen foe feebly tried to rise, failed, and shook his head in obvious pain. Buffy toed him again, a little harder. "I didn't think so. Loser." With a cute little smile and a bounce in her step, she walked towards the steps that led up to the observation area.   
  
"What an incredible bit--ah, incredibly mean person," Willow grumbled, watching as two training assistants with medical training moved to check Jesse. Beside her, Xander nodded dreamily.  
  
"She's incredible all right...." The redhead frowned, ran that back in her head, then turned and shot him an incredulous look.  
  
"What? After everything she's done to us, everything she's done to  _you_ , you're still crushing on her?" Xander squirmed uncomfortably under her stare, still sneaking glances at Buffy as she climbed the stairs. The tank top she wore clung to her compact, curvaceous form, and the athletic shorts showed off lots and lots of smooth, golden skin. Pale, gawky, skinny Willow couldn't help being jealous, even more so when 'her' Xander stared at the other girl that way.  
  
"Can't help it, Will," he said, eyes still glued to Buffy's rounded, perfect backside. "I know she's evil--or at the very least unintentionally toxic to carbon-based life forms such as you and I--but I'm still a man. I have the inbuilt man weaknesses to gorgeous girls with blonde hair, and green eyes, and soft... curvy...."  
  
Whatever else he'd been about to say got cut off--literally. Neither of them had taken notice of the other onlookers streaming past behind them, on their way to congratulate (aka: worship at the feet of) their leader. Neither of them noticed Faith walk past just as Xander mentioned the hair and the eyes and the curves. And, unfortunately, neither of them saw her response until it was too late.  
  
The flash of violet light was heartstoppingly familiar, and Willow's mouth was still opening to scream a warning when the blade took Xander low across the back. It cut deeply enough to half-sever his torso from his pelvis, and his spine didn't even slow the blade down as it sliced through him with brutal ease. He collapsed, still unsure of exactly what had happened, his face disbelieving as realization slowly penetrated. Willow, having seen this sort of thing more than once in the recent past, glared hatefully at Faith as she knelt beside him  
  
"That sort of thing's fun for you, isn't it? Isn't it?!" she spat. "You really are as crazy as people say you are!"  
  
Faith smirked back at her, utterly unimpressed.  
  
"Hey, red; I'm not dishing out any more than he can take." She looked down at Xander, and materialized her second dagger, holding them both up so that her face was framed in deadly light. "If I wanted to be mean, if I were to  _really_  get pissed, then I'd cut him into little pieces and find some hungry little critters to feed him to--I've been wondering how his 'immortality' would handle  _that_." She leaned forward just a little, staring down at the helpless boy, and her voice went scary-soft. "You're never going to have her, little man. She's out of your league, she's taken, and you're never going to  _touch_  her." She straightened, and let the glowing blades vanish. "So get over it, keep your mouth shut, and keep your eyes to yourself. Got it?" Not waiting for an answer, she went to join the others of her clique.   
  
Buffy and the rest had been watching the confrontation from a short distance away, where the girl had taken a seat on a bench. One member of her court held out a towel, another offered a bottle of chilled water. She ignored them both for a moment, busy slipping off the pink athletic shoes and pink-trimmed white socks, and replacing them with her trademark high heels. Finishing up, the petite blonde gave Faith a questioning look.  
  
"What's all that about?"   
  
The other girl made a gesture of dismissal.  
  
"Nothin' at all. I think he tripped or something; he's clumsy like that."   
  
Buffy raised one perfect eyebrow in response.  
  
"He  _tripped_? And somehow this trippage resulted in his kidneys spilling out on the ground?"  
  
Faith grinned, reached out, and carefully smoothed a stray lock of golden hair back into place.  
  
"Well, there  _might_  have been some sort of foul play, but so far the authorities have no leads." Buffy smiled back at her, shaking her head in mock dismay.  
  
"You're being excessive again; we've  _talked_  about this. Xander sneaking looks at my butt is  _not_  an evisceration-worthy offense." She glanced over at where Willow was kneeling, in blood and other things, and made a displeased little moue. "Remember: if he sneaks a look, stab him once. If he tries to take another picture, cut off his hands." That steady, emerald stare made the redhead wince as she remembered the incident that had occurred the previous Friday. "And if you hear him start up again on how much he'd love to 'do' me...  _that's_  when you should start pulling out internal organs."  
  
Faith, watching as the girl used the towel to blot away the few small beads of perspiration the sparring session had generated, just shook her head.  
  
"Okay, B; that's a lot for me to try and remember. Could you maybe make a chart, or type out a manual, or have somebody set up a twenty-four hour help line--ow!" Buffy had reached up, eyes glittering, and given the long purple hair a sharp yank. Faith responded by grabbing the sitting girl around the waist with both hands and lifting her high into the air. Willow knew for a fact that the taller girl didn't have any kind of meta strength. Still, she was fit and strong, and Buffy was tiny. Faith therefore had little difficulty in picking the blonde up, walking three steps, and holding her out over the railing that encircled the training arena. It was a drop of nearly twenty feet if she dropped her, but nobody believed for a second that it would happen.  
  
Besides, if she started to fall, Buffy's hand could flash out and clamp onto the railing in far less than an eyeblink.  
  
"Say you're sorry," Faith growled, with only a trace of strain in her voice.  
  
"I'm sorry!" Buffy cried out, giggling uncontrollably all the while. "I'm really, really sorry...." She bit her lip, eyes wide, then went on in a breathless, conspiratorial, little voice: "I was just trying to start up your brain, Faith, so you could remember better," The tall girl's expression shifted to one of uncertainty, and Buffy reached out to again tug--gently--on one of those long purple tresses. "You know," she continued with total earnestness. "Like those starter-cord thingies you yank on to start up a lawn mower or--Eeek!"  
  
Faith gave the girl a little jerk, then let her drop a few inches, as if she were about to let go. Buffy's shriek turned into helpless laugher, and she kicked her dainty little feet and flailed with her delicate little hands, just like she really was a helpless damsel and not a super-powered fighting machine. Everyone watching knew those small fists battering ineffectually (and ever-so-carefully) at Faith could just as easily have snapped bone, or torn the larger girl's arms from their sockets. When Faith swung her back over the railing and set her down, Buffy grabbed some purple hair again, and tugged at it repeatedly before shaking her head sadly.  
  
"It's no use. Her brain won't start, no matter what I do. We'll have to junk this one and buy a new model. These 'Faith's' don't seem very reliable, do they? Maybe a 'Hope' this time, or a 'Patience'; I hear those are good." Faith, for her part, slid her hands up from where they had gripped Buffy's waist, up along her sides, then over her shoulders and down her arms. Just above the elbow she stopped, then used her finger to rub lightly at that pale gold skin.  
  
"Yeah, well; speaking of defective--" She rubbed more vigorously, then gave the smaller girl a look of pity. "--Yeah, this is bad. That fake tan stuff you use must have been way past the expiration date or something, 'cause you've got some wicked huge freckles coming in all  _over_  the place."   
  
Buffy jerked away so abruptly her shoes actually came two feet off the ground. Landing with her usual perfect balance, she was already scanning both arms, turning in place as she tried to see every side of her arms and shoulders at once.   
  
"You had  _better_  be kidding, or I will  _so_  kick your ass for making a joke about--"  
  
Faith picked her up again, just long enough to turn and aim her towards the mansion before putting her feet back on the ground.  
  
"Of course I'm kidding; you always look killer, killer. Now lets go get some food, huh? It's victory-dinner time" Buffy scowled ferociously up at her, then relaxed into a smile.  
  
"All right, I'll forgive you this time--provided you get me two double cheese pizzas of my very own."  
  
"It's a deal... freckles."  
  
The others, including the two male students who shared the title of 'boyfriend' and constantly competed for the blonde's affections, had laughed all the way through the byplay.   
  
Willow, glaring after them through a blur of frustrated tears and helpless rage, was ashamed to find herself wishing she knew some manner of death-inducing spell.  
  
 _Those two are having_  so  _much fun here, aren't they? Everything's a joke to them, unless it involves something they want, and then it's more important than anything or anyone._  
  
Willow and Xander, on the other hand, had  _not_  been enjoying their time at the new school as much as they'd hoped... mainly thanks to Faith and Buffy.  
  
 _They latched onto each other so fast, you'd think they were long-lost sisters or something. It's only been a few days, and I think they're closer to each other than me and Xander; and we've known each other forever. And that's not even counting how I've been completely in love with him all these years--at least the terrible twosome over there won't ever have_  that  _kind of connection...._  
  
She sent one last hateful stare after the girls, then started to look away. She  _started_  to look away, then stopped short, eyes narrowing.   
  
 _Wait a second--!_  
  
The easy familiarity between Faith and Buffy, all the little touches and looks and smiles.... Even now, as they all walked off towards the Mansion, the body language was glaringly obvious. Faith's arm was across Buffy's shoulders in what might have been a casual, friendly sort of way... and wasn't. As Willow watched, the taller girl intentionally blocked boyfriend number two's attempt to sidle up next to the blonde, and shot him a quick, threatening look that made him back off. Buffy, for her part, had her arm curled loosely around Faith's waist, her hand resting on her leather-clad hip. It looked very much like a tired athlete carelessly leaning on a friend for support... and wasn't.  
  
 _Oh. My. Gods. When she said Buffy was 'taken', she wasn't talking about the boys, was she? They're--the two of them are actually... together?_  
  
She blinked, shook her head, and frowned.   
  
Maybe they were, maybe not. Probably not, given what she'd heard about Buffy's reluctance to actually do the... sex... thing... with either of her boyfriends so far. Apparently the oh-so-perfect Buffy required a long trial period before she could be certain that someone was worthy of being intimate with her magnificient self. So maybe she and Faith weren't  _actually_  doing anything.   
  
Yet.   
  
But it was now very obvious that Faith  _wanted_  something to happen. And it sure looked like Buffy was seriously considering _letting_  it happen.  
  
"Uh, Will? Hello, lying here sort of in pieces. How 'bout a little help?" She gave a start, looked down, and gasped in dismay, realizing that she'd been ignoring Xander for a good minute or so now.  
  
"Ack! Sorry! Sorry!" She leaned over and began to awkwardly shift him around so that his upper and lower body weren't twisted apart. The gaping wound gaped a little less once she had him repositioned. The blood that had been gushing out in torrents had already slowed to a trickle, and she knew that he would start healing with amazing speed once his body finally figured out exactly what had happened to it this time around. Then a shadow fell across them both, and they looked up to see Ms. Thurman, one of the school's combat instructors standing over them.  
  
"Need to work on that situational awareness, Mr. Harris," she said, her oddly-marked face grim and unforgiving. "Never give a known enemy a free shot at your back like that, or one day you won't live long enough to regret it." A gesture brought a medical technician hurrying over, and she walked away without another word. Xander closed his eyes, waiting for the regeneration to begin, and Willow put her hand on his forehead. As she gathered her concentration to attempt a healing spell, she stared after the Buffy-led faction through red-rimmed eyes.  
  
"Don't worry, Xander. Everybody gets what they deserve, sooner or later." He gave a short bark of surprised laughter, then winced in renewed pain.  
  
"So, you're saying that maybe Buffy'll accidentally get lobotomized, turn into a normal, affectionate, dim-witted blonde, and become my adoring love slave?"  
  
Willow looked down at him in surprise, then smiled broadly.  
  
"Actually, yes." She looked at the tiny, receding figures of Faith and Buffy, and her smile turned evil. "Yes. I think that's  _exactly_ what I'm saying."  
  
* * * * *  
  
9 Minutes and 39 Seconds Ago:   
  
Willow looked around carefully, surveying the space where she would perform the ritual. The lights were dim, as befitted the hushed hour just after midnight. The chamber was cool, the blue waters of the Mansion's indoor pool were as smooth and perfect as glass. The large chamber occupied the basement of the rambling building's western wing, which had only partially been renovated when the mansion was converted to a school. No one was likely to be anywhere nearby, especially since most everyone would be asleep now anyway. All of which meant she should have all the peace and quiet needed to perform some powerful magic.  
  
"Except everybody else looks at me like I'm a crazy person when I use that word," the girl grumbled to herself, the soft words echoing weirdly from both the water and the white tile that covered the floor and walls. "They'd say 'No, not magic, Ms. Rosenberg,  _telepathy_. It's another facet of your remarkable talent, Ms. Rosenberg, don't get muddled up in superstition Ms. Rosenberg." Willow snorted, amused despite herself at her fairly accurate imitation of Tessa. According to her, Willow had a strange, generalized sort of psionic talent, one that altered itself in response to her needs of the moment.   
  
"Sort of like a computer that's able to run different programs, instead of an appliance that's only able to do one specific thing," she mused to herself. Then she shook her head. "Whatever, using spells and rituals to focus my concentration is what works for me, and that's what I'm here to do. So let's get magicking!"  
  
She set the candles out in the proper order, aligned with her best guess at the cardinal directions of North, South, East and West. Moving carefully, she drew the outline of the magical circle in salt, going clockwise from candle to candle. When it was time to sketch in the mystical symbols needed for this particular sort of spell, she paused to dig two of her reference books out of her bag.  
  
"Umm...." She looked from book to book, squinting in the dim light, and finally heaved an unhappy sigh. The books disagreed on which symbols were needed; in fact, they pretty much exactly contradicted each other. Since they'd both occupied the same shelf at the used bookstore in town, she didn't know which one she should believe... so she decided to play it safe. Using a black marker, she drew in first one ring of symbols, and then the second set too, just inside of those. Straightening, she turned in place, surveyed her work, and nodded happily.  
  
"Looks pretty darn Wiccan to me!"  
  
She pulled the last of the required objects from the bag. A small metal bowl, in which she piled little blocks of incense, and two little folded squares of cloth. A moment's concentration and a brief spate of broken latin produced small flames atop each of the candles, and started the incense smoldering. With fingers that were only slightly trembling, Willow lifted the first little packet--   
  
\--And hesitated, a faint shadow of uncertainty stealing across her features. This sort of spell, this kind of compulsion and control of another being, was strictly against the rules. It was bad,  _bad_  karma to force someone like this, against their will. Threefold return, for good or ill was the saying, which meant she could expect some very bad happenings indeed when the payback for this came back around. Willow looked down at the cloth, considered... and then her features hardened.  
  
"Not going to back out, not this witchy girl. Okay, yes, this  _is_  bad, but she's badder--er, more worser... ack! She's a horrible, horrible person, and she has this coming to her!" The echoes bounced back, louder than she'd intended, and she froze until silence returned. Looking anxiously at the door that led to the hallway that led (eventually) to the girl's dorms, she took a few deep breaths, then unwrapped the bundle. Inside, there were half a dozen strands of golden hair. She smiled, determination driving away all uncertainty, and moved to take her place inside the circle.  
  
"And the best part is, this gives everybody what they deserve. Xander gets to spend all day with the uber-snooty b. i. t. c. h. following him around like the typical, bleach-blonde, air-headed cheerleader that she is. Buffy gets the massive humiliation of waking up and finding out she spent a whole day making a total fool of herself with the guy who's supposed to be beneath her. I get... well,  _hopefully_  I get a Xander who's gotten the Buffy obsession out of his system. Because I can't believe that being around her all day long won't show him just how awful she is on the inside, once he gets past the skin-deep stuff. And best of all, Faith gets totally crushed when she finds her untouchable Buffy so busy making out with Xander that she doesn't even notice Miss walking, talking, supercleavage." She giggled softly, entranced by the mental image. "The baddest of the bad girls might even break down and cry, right there in front of everybody. I need to make sure I have a camera ready."  
  
Checking her Sesame Street wristwatch, she reluctantly put those happy thoughts aside and sank into a half-lotus within her circle, legs pulled up underneath her. Concentrating on what she required, she began to chant the words of the spell, as outlined in the books. Within moments, she felt the magic stir within her (or maybe she felt the neural pathways in a certain area of her brain realigning themselves into the configuration that manifested a telepathic ability; whatever). Breathing in the scent of the incense, she held the blonde hairs in her hand and sent the call outwards.  
  
 _Come forth, you mean, pretentious bimbo. Come to me, you arrogant, conceited, condescending... person. This is me overriding the thinking part of your brain, if one of those actually exists somewhere underneath all that blonde hair. This is me filling your obnoxiously pretty head with lots and lots of lusty thoughts, thoughts that make you want to come here. So hurry up! You're consumed with the need to get busy, or be shagged, or, um... otherwise be sexed up... somehow or other._  
  
She scowled, trying to stay focused even as she wished she'd had a script for that part like she did for the Latin. Keeping the blonde hairs clenched tight in one fist, she glanced down to make sure the other packet, with a little of Xander's hair, was close at hand. That was for the second part of the spell, but she'd need to wait until her victim was here, in front of her, for that part. In the meanwhile.....  
  
 _Come, you... you.... Ah ha! Come, you tawdry strumpet! The new object of your raging and all-encompassing lust and hunger and desire and all that other good stuff is just waiting to meet you!_  
  
* * * * *  
  
4 Hours and 13 minutes ago:   
  
The whispered spell sent tiny, invisible feelers of magical energy (or of telekinetic force) into the lock. A moment later there was a soft click, and the door moved inward at her touch. Taking another quick look back at the door across the hall, she could plainly hear the loud music, and equally-loud laugher from inside--Faith and Buffy were spending the evening with some of their friends. Slipping inside the room, Willow pushed the door closed behind her.  
  
The huge room woke a familiar jab of bitter envy; compared to  _her_  dorm, this was practically a luxury suite. Suppressing the angry comments that tried to force their way past her tightly-closed lips, she moved around the room. There were clothes, and clothes, and more clothes; most of them in Buffy's size, and neatly folded or hanging, but some were of the bright, tight, and sexy style that was all Faith. A number of weapons were lying about; swords and knives and even a round metal shield. Some of the items were made of rubber and plastic, and meant to be used in training or sparring matches. Others were the real thing, and looked suitably dangerous. Tiptoeing carefully around a large pile of comic books, and several dumbbells loaded with heavy weights, she searched the area around the dresser and vanity mirror.  
  
There was a row of shoes there, all of them expensive-looking heels in a positively dainty size. Near the bathroom door were two pairs of leather boots, and some battered sneakers. Both computers had been left on, their large monitors glowing. One screensaver showed an image of a bikini-clad Anna Kournikova--the former tennis star (and current centerfold model) all long blonde hair and golden skin, with a beautiful, spoiled, and obviously self-satisfied face.  
  
"Faith has her type all figured out, doesn't she?" Willow whispered to herself with a little scowl. "And she gets to sleep in the same room as one of her fantasy girls;  _that_  must make for a swell time." The other screen showed... a graceful-looking figure skater. Willow blinked, leaned forward, and blinked again. The screen changed, showing another image of skaters, this time a man and a woman together, smiling up at a crowd. Not sure what to make of that, the girl moved on.  
  
There were fashion magazines on the dresser, a half-empty pack of cigarettes, lighter and ashtray tucked into a nook in the bookshelf, two boxes of expensive-looking chocolates lying open and nearly empty... and there, a hairbrush. With a feeling of exultation, Willow grabbed it. Apparently the two girls shared it, because there were several strands of purple mixed in with the gold-blonde, but that presented no problem. She quickly teased the blonde strands free, wrapped them in a bit of cloth she'd brought along for the purpose, and tucked it into her pocket.  
  
Feeling extremely competent and brave now that her mission had been successfully accomplished, she went to the door, peeked outside, and nodded to herself. Buffy would have to come back and go to sleep within the next hour or two, since there were classes in the morning. Willow would wait an hour or so past that, to give the girl time to fall deeply asleep, and then she would cast the spell.   
  
 _Xander is going to be so surprised when Buffy the Love Slave shows up at his door. And Buffy is going to be even more surprised when her brain switches back on a few hours later, and she finds out she's his new girlfriend! She'll look like a total hypocrite, especially after she's made such a big deal of how he's not even allowed to look at her. Well, he's going to get to do a_  lot _more than that to you tonight, your highness!_  
  
The evil smile was back, and it stayed in place as she closed the door behind her, relocked it, and padded off down the hall.  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
3 Minutes and 27 Seconds Ago:   
  
After she cast the spell, Willow waited anxiously. She could feel  _something_  happening; that place inside her head that housed her magical talent (or the neural mechanism that powered her mutant ability) was exerting itself steadily. What she wasn't sure of, as minutes passed, was whether that talent was exerting itself  _enough_. After all, she'd never done this sort of thing before, so she wasn't sure how much power it would take to make it work--if it worked at all.  
  
"And then there's that strangeness with Buffy," she whispered to herself, eyes never leaving the door through which the girl should enter any second now. "She's supposed to be just a 'Grrrr! Me strong fighter and thug and bully!' type mutant, only I've seen her manage to fight it off sometimes when people use mental powers on her. Nobody's ever  _said_  she has some extra-special resistance or something, but I think a few people are pretty sure there  _is_  something like that happening." Her brows lowered and her teeth ground together a little at the thought. "Sure, because she doesn't already have enough going for her, with the pretty face and the perfect hair and the curvy body--plus all the friends, all the people lusting after her, and the thing with being the ultimate Ninja-girl piled on top of the rest." She sighed gustily, tried to keep her concentration, looked at her watch, then back to the door.   
  
 _I should have timed how long it takes to get from her room to here, so I'd know if it was working or not._  Yet another glance at her watch didn't reassure her.  _I don't think it would take this long, would it? Unless... maybe the spell doesn't guide her here? Ack! Maybe she's trying to sleepwalk through a wall or something, trying to go in a straight line from there to here?_  
  
That... was worrisome. And yet, if that was happening, Willow figured she would have heard the sounds of smashing and shouting already. More likely was the possibility that her summons simply wasn't strong enough. What would have been enough for a normal girl's mind wasn't penetrating the (theoretical) defenses of Buffy's mind.   
  
Well, there was a simple enough solution for  _that_.  
  
"Use a bigger hammer," she whispered, quoting Xander. A little smile flickered across her face and was gone, replaced by a look of pure resolve. With exquisite care she repeated the whole spell, making extra sure to pronounce all the Latin properly this time. At the same time, she concentrated on redoubling her mental call. When she was finished she nodded to herself; the effect  _did_ feel stronger now. After a few seconds, though, she started to doubt herself once more.  
  
So she went through it  _again_ , trying to turn the summons into a blazing laser of pure thought, burning deep into her target's mind, filling it with an irresistible desire to reach the source of the call. Willow swayed a little when the third repetition was complete; that unique portion of her brain was straining now, working as hard as it possibly could. She nodded grimly.  
  
"There. I don't care  _how_  much of an ice queen she is, there's no way she's not feeling  _that_!"  
  
Watching the door expectantly, she waited.  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
5 Hours and 40 minutes ago:   
  
Buffy gently pulled the brush through Faith's long hair, repeating the motion over and over in a steady rhythm. It was nearly dry, finally, and slid through her hands like liquid silk.  
  
"This looks a  _lot_  better," she told the other girl. "Those brown roots were really starting to show."  
  
"If you say so," Faith mumbled quietly from her seat before the dresser. "Anything's better than hearing you go on and on about how you wanted to be the one to dye it this time."  
  
Buffy smiled at the top of the girl's head.   
  
"Exactly. Sooner or later, everyone surrenders to my relentless whining and sulking." She stopped for a moment, pursed her lips into a pout, and sighed. "All right; everyone surrenders except for my mother, which is not only an unfortunate coincidence... it also bites on a fairly epic scale. Hence my presence here, at mutant high."  
  
"Mm hm."  
  
The blonde moved around to Faith's left side, pulled the brush through the hair there, then paused to survey the results.  
  
"You know, this purple is really growing on me. At first I was like 'My god, what's happened to this girl's head? An accident with the vats of day-glo at a paint factory? Chance exposure to some radioactive lightsticks at a rave?'". She walked around to the other side, nudging Faith to lean her head so that she could get clear access with the brush. "But now? It's just you, you know? It's sort of fun, and funky, and edgy... with that whole sleek and sexy, tough-girl predator thing thrown in for a million bonus points."  
  
"Mm hmm."  
  
Buffy set the brush down, and gently ran her fingers through that fall of smooth softness; not for any cosmetic reason, now, but just for the pleasure of the sensation.  
  
"Of course it wasn't perfect; I think my own personal touch makes it look even better than it did before. And you know you've been thinking about it ever since you looked through my suitcases that first day."  
  
"Mmmmm...."  
  
The blonde paused, considered the girl sitting there in front of her, and bent down a little to stare into the mirror before them. Faith had been quietly disdainful of the whole process, claiming that there was a good week or two before the root situation would be an actual problem. She'd wanted to go get in a session in the school's gym instead, or a quick five-mile run, or... well, basically anything else at all. Buffy had insisted, though, and like she'd just said, (almost) nobody had enough willpower to keep telling her 'no' for long.  
  
And for the last fifteen minutes, while the smaller girl had been busy with the brushing, Faith had made a show of reading comic books to relieve the immense boredom she suffered during the process. Only now.... Buffy smiled delightedly as she looked into Faith's reflected face and found the other girl's eyes closed. Gently resuming her finger combing of the violet mane, she listened closely.  
  
"Mmmmmmmmm...."  
  
It was a sub vocalization, so quiet it was hardly a sound at all. Buffy still heard it, and made a pleased little sound of her own.  
  
 _Okay, I think she's actually purring! Miss Total Badass, and she's putty in my hands--that is of the good in many, many ways._    
  
A lot had happened in the ten days since she'd first stepped foot on the school grounds. And one of the most... no,  _the_  most important thing that had happened, by far, was the relationship that had formed between the two of them. It had taken her by surprise; it had taken her way,  _way_  by surprise... and yet it had happened. Not just the friendship thing, either, though that was unlikely enough. No, the big deal was the romance part. Granted, it was an... understated romance. Sort of  _un_ stated, actually; with everything totally subtextual, and neither of them putting it into words.  
  
 _Except we don't have to, not at this point. The subtext is looming awfully large by now; one might even say there is a Godzilla-sized subtext monster who is gleefully riverdancing atop the poor, defenseless text._  
  
So, the only question now was what to do about it? She knew it was entirely up to her to make the first move. Faith was as open and free about her sexuality as it was possible for someone to be, but she also knew that Buffy was more reserved than that. It wasn't like she was homophobic, not at all. It was simply that she'd never considered the possibility that she would be... interested... in another girl.  
  
 _Okay, sure, I've kissed a girl once before... okay, twice_. She considered the matter, then grudgingly amended the thought.  _All right,_  three  _times, but I was halfway out of my mind that night because of all the champagne I'd been drinking. It was in no way my fault that dad had to stay at the office all night, which meant that Carly and Cissy felt free to look all through the apartment and ended up finding that bottle. It was supposed to be a girl's night/sleepover kind of thing, and ended up being sort of... educational._  
  
She blinked, breaking out of her reverie, and looked down to where her fingers were still moving caressingly through Faith's hair.  
  
 _I like her. A lot. Maybe even enough to experiment a little?_  She frowned in irritation and shook her head.  _Come on, Buffy, be honest with yourself. There's no 'maybe' about it, not now. There's only 'when' and 'how'. Which, granted, are huge and scary questions all on their own._  
  
Faith sighed, and moaned again; quite audibly this time. Buffy watched the girl's legs move as she squirmed uncomfortably, then tried to hide the movement by sitting up straighter in the chair as she opened her eyes.  
  
"So, we all done?" she asked. Her gaze found her reflection, and her eyes widened a little. "That... is more than covering up some brown roots, B."   
  
Buffy smiled at her, running her fingers through the hair in question once more before stepping back.  
  
"And it looks completely amazing on you. Don't even try to pretend you don't love it."  
  
Faith grinned at her, and stood up with that easy grace of hers--which did nothing to hide her flushed face, her quickened breathing, or the way it was suddenly obvious that she was not wearing a bra beneath her blouse.  
  
"C'mon, sexy-haired girl," Buffy told her. "Mira and Mari want us to come across the hall and watch American Idol with them. And remember, they promised you all the popcorn you can eat."  
  
"Ha! Those two have no fucking  _idea_  how much that's gonna cost them! I can  _live_  on popcorn." She strode over to her bed and began sorting through the clothes heaped on the floor beside it. "Actually, I  _did_  live on popcorn, for a few weeks one time. See, I was screwing this guy who worked at the movie concession stand, and he could get these huge plastic bags of--"  
  
Buffy tuned it out, too busy with her own thoughts to follow yet another tale of Faith's sex life.  
  
 _Thing is, that's a big deal. I mean,_  I  _have a sex drive, absolutely. I've been a non-virgin for a few months now, and sex is an incredibly nifty thing. Faith, though, doesn't just have a sex drive--she has a Car Show. She has the entire New-Car Expo, with a few dozen Monster Trucks thrown in for kicks. She's tried to be sneaky, but I know she sneaks out most nights to find somebody to scratch that itch for her. I'm pretty sure she manages it during the day sometimes too, even if I can't figure out where she's going or who she's meeting. So, yes, a little intimidating. If me playing with her hair almost made her orgasm just now--and it did--then I'm going to have my work cut out for me, trying to keep up with her._  
  
She watched as Faith peeled off her tee shirt, as free of body modesty as a cat, and slipped into a bra. The cranberry blouse went over it, falling several inches short of reaching the waistband of her skintight, low-rise jeans, which left a tantalizing expanse of flat stomach and trim waist on display.  
  
 _On the other hand, I think it's going to be a lot of fun_  trying!  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Now:  
  
The room felt crowded, somehow, the air tingling like it did right before a thunderstorm. Willow stood within her magic circle, the strands of blonde hair clutched in one fist, with every single bit of mental energy she possessed striving to draw Buffy to her. By all accounts the petite girl had a surprising amount of self-control when it came to sexual-type temptations, so it was probably a good thing that Willow was over-charging the spell as much as she could. With this much power concentrated on the primal, lusty portions of the blonde's brain, there was no way she would be able to resist the summons.   
  
Yep, any second now, and Buffy Summers would come shuffling through that door in a helpless, zombie-like trance, only to find a waiting Willow. A second spell to bind the girl's every thought to Xander, and her revenge would be well on it's way to fruition. She realized now that she'd been foolish to worry about the threefold rule; dark magic or no, this was for the greater good, really, almost a public service. Life would be easier for everyone with Buffy humbled and Faith's unbreakable loyalty to the blonde forever tarnished.  
  
All that remained was for the girl to actually arrive, and then--  
  
 _Boooommmm!_  
  
Willow shrieked, jumped, and nearly fell out of her circle when the door she'd been watching suddenly slammed open so hard that broken tile clattered to the floor from where it had swung through a half-circle and struck the wall. The figure on the other side was visible only in silhouette for a long moment, which gave the girl time enough to find her voice.  
  
"A--All right, um, Buffy, this is your mistress speaking. Come forward, and I will bind you to your new master." She glanced down at the packet of Xander's hair, and her lips twisted. "You don't deserve him, and I don't want you near him, but if it gets him over you then it'll all... be... worth...?"  
  
When the girl in the doorway stepped forward, Willow's heart seemed to trip over itself, missing a beat, then hammering hard and fast. It wasn't Buffy, walking into the dim blue light of the pool room.  
  
It was Faith.  
  
"Faith!" Willow said, her voice emerging in a strangled squeak. "Hey! What a coincidence, you being here! I, uh, wasn't doing anything sneaky or wrong, in here, late at night... I kinda had this urge to swim, y'know?"  
  
The girl wasn't answering. She wasn't doing anything except walking closer, crossing along the far side of the large pool, then turning to walk along the long side, directly towards Willow. The skinny girl couldn't help noticing that Faith wasn't dressed for a late night stroll; all she was wearing was a babydoll nightgown in purple lace and satin that  _had_  to be a gift from Buffy. Also, as she came closer, Willow saw that although her eyes were strangely glassy, they weren't at all vacant. Instead, they were filled with... hunger. And finally, when she passed directly under one of the dim lights mounted in the ceiling, her hair was clearly visible. Her long, purple hair... with brand-new, golden-blonde streaks which set the violet color of the rest off perfectly.  
  
"Oh....  _Shit!_ " Willow threw the blonde hairs she held away with a convulsive motion. The blonde hairs which she had obtained from a brush that also held a few purple hairs. "You guys didn't share that brush? It was all you?" Willow's voice was shaking, and thin with barely-suppressed terror to boot. "Uh, okay, I can fix this, just give me one second here--!" She fumbled through the tools at her feet, looking for, well, she wasn't quite sure. Switching the girl's focus to Xander, as she'd planned, wasn't something she wanted to even consider. On the other hand, it would buy her enough time to reverse what she'd done; hopefully before any real damage was done. She nodded frantically, lifting the hairs she'd obtained from the boy.  
  
"All right, the Latin for this is.... Ah, the Latin is...."  
  
Faith wasn't waiting for her to remember the Latin; Faith was coming for her, and the look in the tall girl's eyes was turning Willow's insides to water.  
  
 _Because I was trying to break through_ Buffy's  _willpower, and_  Buffy's  _resistance to mental powers--Faith doesn't_  have  _any resistance to mental stuff, and she_  sure  _doesn't have any inhibitions where sex is involved!_  
  
"Faith, stop! Please stop! Give me just one second, and I can--aaahhh!"  
  
She had to jump back, because the other girl was right  _there_! Faith was in front of her, and she was moving forward even as Willow was stumbling backwards and trying not to trip over her books and incense bowl and bag of supplies. Willow tried to calm her mind, tried to call up some telekinesis, to shove the girl into the pool--and couldn't. She was no good under pressure, and the way Faith was looking at her, and walking faster--!  
  
Willow turned and ran as hard as she could run. She rounded the corner of the pool, sprinted down the short side at this end of the room, and then she had to make a decision. The fourth side of the pool came right up against the wall; there wasn't any floor here for her to run to the door that led out. She could jump in the water and try to swim towards the exit, or she could go through a door right next to her that led only to a locker room and sauna. With the sound of Faith's bare feet echoing off the tiles right _behind_  her she chose the door. A leap carried her through, and she slammed it shut with all her might. Fumbling at the handle she tried to find a lock, or latch, or anything at all to hold it shut--and a searingly bright blade of pure energy pushed through the wood like it was nothing.   
  
With another shriek Willow backpedaled frantically, tripped backwards over a bench, and then turned and scrabbled away on all fours. Behind her she heard the door being sliced into pieces; she had only seconds before Faith would be inside. Reaching the next room as she managed to get herself back up on her feet, Willow looked around desperately. There was the thick, heavy door of the Sauna itself; obviously it wouldn't do more than slow Faith down. And there, in the corner, so inconspicuous that she nearly overlooked it in her panic, was a smaller panel set low in the wall.  
  
She took a second to throw the Sauna door shut, then clawed frantically at the panel. It fell inwards, and she crawled quickly into the space beyond. Twisting around she pushed it closed behind her, just as she saw Faith step into the room, her Psi-Knife blazing.   
  
Willow shrank back, holding her breath, and waited.   
  
 _She's going to find me, I know it! She'll kick this down and drag me out there and rape me before she carves me up! Or she'll carve me up_  while _she rapes me! Oh, gods, she'll probably just rape me over and over until I'm dead, since I sent that massive lust overload into her already lust-overloaded brain!_  
  
The sound of the telekinetic blade carving through wood made her flinch, but it wasn't the panel in front of her that was being attacked.  
  
 _She thinks I'm in the Sauna! I can still get away!_  
  
Blinking furiously, trying to see in the total darkness of the low, musty passage, Willow started crawling. Her searching fingers found metal pipes, ancient wires, and a seemingly endless number of clinging cobwebs. After what seemed like twenty or thirty feet she came to a place where the crawlway split, going straight on or right. Pausing, she tried to call up a mental map of where exactly she was in relation to the building overhead... and then her decision was made for her. A crashing sound came from behind her, and a gleam of purple light spilled into the darkness around her. With a frantic lunge, she scrambled into the right-hand passage. Immediately there came a left turn, a right turn, then another intersection, this one offering three choices. Without pausing she chose the one of the left.   
  
There were sounds from far behind her, almost lost in the rapid pounding of her heart and the pained breaths that came out as choking sobs.  
  
 _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! I know it was wrong, I promise to neverneverEVER do it again, just please help me!_  
  
Small, sharp things, invisible in the darkness, were cutting her hands and knees as she crawled, and there was so much dust in the air that her lungs felt like they were stuffed with dryer lint. Another long series of twists and turns made her despair of ever finding her way out of the passage... and then she saw it: A gleam of light up ahead, faint, and pale, and best of all not any shade of purple. With a whimper of fear turning to relief, she crawled towards it.  
  
 _Thank you thank you, oh goddess thank you--!_  
  
The sound of cracking, splintering wood came just as the floor beneath her gave way, and she fell into utter darkness.  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Seven Hours and 57 Minutes From Now:   
  
"Wake up, sleepyhead! You're going to be late for Civics class unless you start getting ready right now!"   
  
Buffy kept going with her own preparations for another full minute before she saw that Faith still hadn't stirred. Grumbling under her breath, she crossed the room and prodded the shapeless lump there.  
  
"Hey! Come on, rise and shine!" Finally the form beneath the covers showed signs of life, and the girl pulled the blanket down to reveal a huge yawn. "Nice," Buffy observed wryly, turning back to the serious business of choosing her shoes for the day.   
  
"What time is it?" Faith asked sleepily, struggling to pull herself upright while squinting at the light streaming in through the open curtains. Seeing the answer for herself on the clock by the bed she cursed, yawned, then cursed again. The blonde smiled at the predictable routine, sat down, and started putting on the shoes she'd selected.  
  
"Regretting that late night now, aren't you?"  
  
Faith stumbled to the bathroom, closed the door, and called her answer back into the room.  
  
"Hey, you were there too, so don't get all preachy at me."   
  
Buffy stood up, frowned, and turned her head towards the door.  
  
"Huh? I'm not talking about watching 'Idol', I mean later."   
  
Silence stretched out for several seconds, then:   
  
" _What_? I came back with you, went to sleep, and woke up just now. So what the hell are you talkin' about?" The toilet flushed, and the door opened to reveal a very puzzled face. Buffy's matched it, though in her case there was also a considerable degree of certainty.  
  
"Actually, no, you didn't. Yes, you went to bed, only later on I got up and went downstairs to raid the kitchen. You were here when I left, gone when I came back. I figured you went... out...for something, so I went back to sleep."  
  
Faith stared at her, then glanced down at her dirty, rumpled nightgown. A look in the mirror showed her hair to be a tangled mess.  
  
"Huh. Well... I guess I must have... gone out for a smoke or something."  
  
Buffy gave the smudged, dusty girl the maximum-strength version of her skeptically-raised eyebrow.  
  
"'And did this smoke break happen to take place in a coal mine?"  
  
Faith shrugged indifferently.  
  
"Parts of this place are still closed off, and there's a hundred years of dust and crap in those halls. I must have taken a wrong turn or something." An unhappy tug at her dirty nightgown failed to provide any enlightenment. "I don't remember anything else, so... yeah, that must have been it." Then she stopped, looked down at her bare feet, and frowned thoughtfully.  
  
"There  _was_  a weird dream, though...."  
  
Buffy watched her, intrigued despite herself. Faith wasn't the sort of person to talk about dreams--not unless they were the pornographic kind.  
  
"Weird how?" she prompted.  
  
"Well.... It was me, on a beach or by a river or something like that; definitely by the water. And I was looking for someone; it was the most important thing in the world to find them... and when I finally got there, and saw them...." She trailed off, looking uncomfortable. Buffy moved to stand beside her, and touched her arm gently.  
  
"Who was it?"  
  
Faith looked up, met Buffy's eyes, and gave her a tiny, uncertain little smile.  
  
"It was you."  
  
"Ah." She tried to find something meaningful to add to that, but it was difficult. It was especially difficult when she realized that they were now standing very close together, with her wondering if _this_  should be the 'when', when she spoke up and admitted what she wanted.... And Faith was right there, with that vulnerability that was usually hidden deep inside her poised to spill right out in the open, and completely sweep Buffy away.  
  
"Uh huh," Faith said, very softly. "And I tried to go to you, only you ran away, and then there was one of those huge maze things, the kind made out of big shrubberies or whatever. I knew you were in there, and I went in, and got lost, and was basically going crazy 'cause I couldn't find you."  
  
Buffy searched those dark eyes, looking for some hint that this was a joke, and found only earnestness. And a faintly desperate sort of hope.  
  
"It was really that important? That you found me, I mean?"  
  
Faith nodded.  
  
"Yeah, it really was. More than anything. Only it never happened." She blinked, and looked away, and took a step back. "Oh, wow, look at that clock. Shit. Gotta hurry up or I'll be late for... whatever class you said that was." Her defenses back in place, that vulnerable side of her safely hidden once more, the girl turned away. "Man, I feel grungy as hell; I  _gotta_  grab a shower." Snatching up her leather pants and a towel she hurried across the room. "Hey, B; you done in the bathroom?"  
  
"Hm? Oh, sure, go ahead." She watched the girl go inside the bathroom, and start to close the door behind her, and then called out:   
  
"Faith?"  
  
The girl stuck her head back out.  
  
"What?"  
  
Buffy walked to her, slowly and carefully, a little scared and a lot unsure and very much knowing it was the right thing to do.  
  
"You know how in the dream you couldn't find me?"  
  
Faith nodded cautiously.  
  
"Uh huh...."  
  
"Well, I think maybe you shouldn't give up quite yet." She stopped by the half-open door, and leaned against the wall, and looked up at the face just inches away. "I think you should keep looking, because that person isn't running away from you. She's trying to figure out a way to reach you. And to... help you find your way out of that maze... assuming we're still stuck in that analogy."  
  
A stunned look and the beginnings of a disbelieving smile came and went, leaving a cautious and guarded expression behind.  
  
"Are you sure? I mean, if it's gonna get weird, and go wrong, and screw up what we've already got, then I don't want to--"  
  
"I'm sure," Buffy told her, all firm and gentle at the same time. "We're most of the way there already, and I--" She smiled, and nodded, more to herself than the other girl. "I want it; all of it. Everything." The smile turned into a mischievous grin. "This should  _not_  be a shock; you already know how greedy I am."  
  
Faith grinned back at her.  
  
"You are one spoiled little brat; yeah, I'm aware."  
  
"Pretty, though, right?."  
  
"Oh, absolutely; you're the prettiest spoiled brat I've ever seen."  
  
Buffy nodded happily, eyes sparkling.  
  
"Good answer. Now hurry up and get clean, we've got school stuff to do now. The other stuff--" She lowered her chin and did her best 'seductive stare through eyelashes' thing, and almost laughed when Faith's fingers went white from her grip on the edge of the door. "The other stuff we can try later. Not much later, though."  
  
A long, gusty sigh from Faith, and then the bathroom door slammed shut.  
  
"I  _hope_  not," came the muffled voice from the other side. "Cold shower, definitely. Very, very cold shower...."  
  
Buffy regarded the door with satisfaction.  
  
 _I'm glad we finally got that out in the open. Because if you're going to have lusty dreams about chasing someone, then every one of them had better be about Me._    
  
Wandering over to the vanity, she picked up the hairbrush and pulled in through her blonde locks a few times.  
  
 _Those gold streaks I put in with the purple aren't just for show, you know. Those are a sign to everybody else here that I've claimed you, that you're_  mine. _I know I might have to share you, but I come first, always. And if I find anybody trying to mess with that arrangement, they will be very, very sorry._  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
And elsewhere, at that same moment:   
  
"Willow? Hey, you in there?"  
  
She looked up from where she was huddled on her bed, wrapped in blankets, and didn't answer. So of course Xander opened the door anyway.  
  
"There you are. So, how about it?"  
  
She stared at him, bleary-eyed and unhappy.  
  
"How about what?" she asked, her voice a pained whisper.  
  
He didn't seem to notice her discomfort. Moving forward, he dropped down to sit on the side of her bed, which made her wince as her aching body was jarred by the motion.  
  
"You know, the thing. The thing you said you were going to do last night, that would make everyone get what they deserved. _That_  what."  
  
She grimaced, and shook her head slowly.  
  
"Never mind. Not going to happen."  
  
 _Or maybe it already happened,_ she found herself thinking.  _Good or ill, deeds return to you threefold. Maybe that really is true._  
  
The shame she felt, and the sore, strained, aching discomfort radiating from basically every single inch of her body seemed to support that theory. After falling down the shaft, she'd lain there, stunned, for what seemed a scary-long time. When she finally mustered the concentration to summon a small light she'd found herself in a long-abandoned wine-cellar, complete with dusty, broken bottles and squeaking, scurrying rats.  
  
It had taken forever for her to find her way back to the upper levels of the old mansion. Especially when she heard Faith's footsteps in every tiny noise, and saw those blazing purple knives in every reflected glint of her own light. Even now she was shaking from the aftereffects of that prolonged terror.  
  
"Threefold return, and what I tried was even worse than what  _they_  do," she whispered to herself.  
  
"Say what?" Xander asked, puzzled.  
  
Willow didn't bother explaining.  
  
"Please, leave me alone, okay, Xander? I'm not feeling very well."  
  
The young man stood, obviously at a loss to understand this turn of events.  
  
"Oh, well, okay then. I'll just wander off and do whatever. Out there. Where the crazy women prowl, looking for prey." When she didn't respond he gave her another look, then nodded. "All right, Wil. Rest up, feel better. I'll see you later."  
  
"Later," she said, watching the door close behind him.   
  
That left her alone again with her thoughts, and with the memories of the previous night.   
  
Neither made for pleasant company.  
  
* * * * *


End file.
